


A Prayer For Something Better

by voodoo_smile



Category: Indie Music RPF, Music RPF, Pop Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Cure (Band), music and bands
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanfiction, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut, Suicide Attempt, The Cure, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 67,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10270067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoo_smile/pseuds/voodoo_smile
Summary: Rating: Overall rating - multiple chaptersSetting: Robert/Simon, 1982. Pornography era.Disclaimer: I do not own The Cure. Everything described in this story is fictional.**One of my darkest sagas leading up to how it all fell apart in 1982 and a bit beyond. Angst, angst and more angst. I also enjoy writing a miserable, jealous, lovesick, less than perfect Robert.**





	1. A Prayer For Something Better

He took a swig from the bottle of whiskey and sat on the sofa in the studio, his head leaning back on the cushions, his mind buzzing from all the alcohol ingested over the course of the evening, not to mention the cocaine.

Lol peered around the doorway, "Got any blow, Robert?"

"What the fuck is it to you?!' Robert questioned back, annoyed that he hadn't left yet.

"Jesus...what's gotten into  _you_?" Lol's eyes widened.

"Nothing." Robert retorted sourly. He took another long gulp, and then glared at Lol, "Sod off."

Lol shook his head, "You miserable bastard..." And he was gone.

Robert let out a weak, dry laugh,  _Lol was so right,_ he thought and took another mouthful of whiskey, trying once again to dull the thoughts that had weighed so heavily on his mind. Mary had had enough. Enough of dealing with Robert's downward spiral; the binge drinking, the drugs, the all night recording sessions… God knows what other sordid events were taking place when he was on one of his benders out with  _him_ , Simon. He was turning into a monster and she couldn't stand the sight of him any longer. By this time Robert wasn't shocked by any of it. It was the only grounded, 'normal' relationship he had left and he failed miserably at keeping it. It was useless. He couldn't bear to be around most people anymore anyway, they only reminded him of what a dismal failure he had become.

There was a shuffling of footsteps, dragging him out of his depths. "Robert?" It was Simon. He leaned against the doorway, obviously well on his way to being drunk. His wild, dark hair covering half of his face, shirt buttoned haphazardly and half undone. Robert's eyes lingered on the figure standing in the doorway looking him over, wondering just where he'd been. After a moment, he held out the whiskey bottle with arm outstretched; a wordless invite.

"...Yeah." Simon mumbled, sat on the sofa, grabbed the bottle and took a gulp.

 _Simon_.

He was the last person left in Robert's abysmal world. He had always been by his side and was always there for him with no demands, but lately, Robert felt as if things had changed - a tension that slowly grew into what felt like a cavernous expanse between them. They didn't speak much anymore and it was killing him. How Robert felt about Simon from the very beginning was something he knew could never be revealed. It had become a dark secret that ate away at him and now Robert felt a growing resentment towards his closest friend and anger at his own feelings of confusion and desperation. He wanted him. He had to possess him. He couldn't let him slip away.

"So," Robert spoke, "Who'd you fuck tonight?" He added flatly.

Simon chuckled, thinking it was funny. It wasn't. Steel blue eyes glared at him.

"You serious?" He was bewildered at Robert's question, his eyes widening.

Robert kept his glare fixed on Simon, smiling brittlely, "Tell me," he tested, "Go on."

"You’re bloody mad." Simon's eyes narrowed as he brought the bottle up to his lips. As he took another mouthful Robert's eyes studied his face, his dark eyes, those full lips... down to the part of his chest that was visible through his partially unbuttoned shirt. Robert's breath hitched at that sight and he couldn't help but think just what he had been doing these past few weeks and with whom. He would leave the studio early with certain 'friends' of his only to return hours later, clothes in disarray - sometimes torn, completely out of his head, staggering back to either pass out on the floor in the studio or on the sofa where they now sat together. Robert had felt betrayed and at the same time he felt a shiver run down his spine at the very thought of Simon in the throes of… No. He tried to shake the thought from his mind. There was another long silence and he knew Simon was waiting for him to say something, but no words came. Robert was terrified.

"Right, I-I'm going..." Simon tried to stand, but was quickly taken over by the alcohol, swaying, then plopping back down on the sofa.

He paused to look down at Robert who sat motionless, his head down with his eyes on the floor and before Robert even knew it himself, he was speaking again, "...Just as useless as the rest of them." Robert cringed at his own bitter words as they left his lips and he kept his stare fixed on the floor, waiting for any reaction. Why was he doing this? Why was he being so horrible?

Simon sucked in a breath, "You... don't." He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled and clumsily put the bottle down on the table in front of them, trying unsuccessfully to rise again, determined to leave.

"No..." A small, quiet sound escaped Robert's lips as he lurched forward and placed his hand over Simon's, still resting on the bottle. He couldn't let him leave now. Not again. They both sat on the edge of the sofa, motionless, Robert's hand still resting on Simon's. His face was so close now that he could feel his breath, like his own, coming quick and hot against his cheek.

Those dark eyes were filled with a look of caution and something else, it was a look that Robert had never seen before. He drew in a long breath before daring to reach up to touch the side of Simon's face, slowly tracing his jaw line, and his eyes widened at Simon's reaction - it was almost as if he held his breath as Robert's hand slid down his face, his eyes closing slowly. Robert felt a dizzying heat rise in him and could hear the sudden rush of blood pumping through his ears. He inched forward and slowly, gently pressed his lips to Simon's. They were warm, soft and felt so good against his and Robert wanted more. He tilted his head and reached up running his hand through Simon's hair pulling him into the languid kiss, their lips slowly sliding against each other's feeling, tasting... but it was Simon who finally broke away, his gaze moving to the floor.

"Simon, I..." Robert mouthed desperately, trying to think of something to say. He gripped Simon's arms, his eyes pleading. Robert needed to do this. He needed him, but Simon's eyes widened as Robert dipped his head to close in on him again.

"I-I can't." His voice was so quiet, so afraid... and it stopped Robert in his tracks. He felt his stomach drop as he loosened his grip on Simon's arms. "I just-" Simon drew in a heavy breath then exhaled, "I can't." he said with such finality.

He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the doorway, pausing briefly as if to speak, but then continued to plod out of the room in silence. Robert dropped his head into his hands and a dull ache slowly began to spread through the back of his skull. Everything had changed in an instant. He felt the uncontrollable sting of tears as his eyes began to well up, but he couldn't let them spill over.

He wouldn't.


	2. A Prayer For Something Better

He sat slouched in the seat in the dimly lit pub surrounded by Lol, smoke, and an ever increasing level of noise from the people that continued to trickle in. He brought his pint glass to his lips and downed almost all of the beer in one long gulp - intent on drinking himself into a stupor.

"...Well, shit. If you're going to just play one bloody chord all night then what's the point?" Lol prattled on, "Why bother wasting your time? Wasting everyone's time…" His voice was filled with frustration as he stubbed out his cigarette and rose from his seat to grab another pint from the bar.

"What the fuck do you know?!" Robert's muttering went unheard as Lol walked away. He could feel himself getting defensive and he knew that Lol was right. He was always right lately. _What was the point - to anything anymore?_ Robert thought. It had been over a week before Robert even though about going anywhere near the studio and tonight with just the two of them, without Simon, it was nothing more than a complete debacle. The making of the new album was becoming increasingly more like a chore. His musical inspiration had been replaced by his constant substance abuse; his only motivation for waking. He spent his days wandering around London and nights totally out of his head, sleeping at the Fiction office, his world becoming more disjointed and surreal. When he did manage to stay fully conscious his thoughts only returned to his best friend and how he hadn't seen him in weeks. Not in the studio, not anywhere. He had made himself scarce and to Robert it wasn't difficult to figure out why.

And then he was there, appearing from out of nowhere it seemed, leaning against the bar drinking from his pint glass. Robert had noticed him instantly - he could always pick him out in a crowd, but then he noticed there was someone by his side. She was touching his arm and they were both laughing, standing so close. That familiar feeling crept back into Robert's mind and the resentment came rushing back into his body like a torrent. He couldn't bear to see him here now, with her  _enjoying himself_  - something that they hadn't done together for so long and that hurt. He knew it shouldn't have mattered, but it infuriated him. At that moment he couldn't stand to look at him, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from his face. There was that hardness in his expression, but his eyes always seemed to say something else, at least as far as Robert was concerned. Just the way he looked at him sometimes; it wasn't like anyone else - or so he thought. Could he have misread someone he thought he knew so well for so long? Robert's gaze slowly moved over his body and his eyes ticked down to his thin, muscular legs. The way he stood. His ass in those tight jeans...

Robert felt his face get hot and a stirring in his trousers. _Not here,_ Robert thought. He shot up out of his seat and purposefully strode to the bar, depositing his empty pint glass on the counter with a thud, brushing past Simon without uttering a word.

"Robert." His voice was barely audible above the din and Robert stopped at hearing his name.

"Yeah?" He asked, trying to sound as unaffected as possible. Why was Simon even bothering? He didn't have anything to say now anyway and he wasn't prepared to leave himself open to another round of rejection. There was a long, awkward silence between them and he felt utterly foolish to think that he had been sitting here hoping that he would walk through that door. He was waiting now, and for what? He needed to leave. He needed to go back to the Fiction office and escape into his own oblivion.

***       ***       ***

The dim light coming from the small lamp was all he could tolerate and after rifling through the desk and cabinets in the front room, looking for something – anything - that could take his mind off of seeing him after so long, he would have to be content with mere alcohol to numb his raging thoughts and that wasn't working. He sat on the sofa which now served as his makeshift bed, taking long swigs from the bottle of beer hoping that each mouthful would erase from his mind the image of Simon. How he wished that his heart hadn't ached. How he wished that he didn't think of his dearest friend in that way; the way he had thought of him for so long and knew he shouldn't. Robert pictured him at the bar, his legs, his ass, so perfect. He felt warmth moving through his body and a familiar pressure growing in his trousers, his arousal becoming more apparent as he shifted his hips in the hopes of alleviating that pressure, but it was no use.

He hadn’t been with anyone for months, never mind Mary. Although he was sure it must have been longer than that. The last girl he was with only resulted from a desperate, primal need and that was in the toilet of a pub. He couldn't bother enough to even try to give the whole sordid event a shred of dignity he was so beyond wasted. He didn't know her name and didn't care. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her face much less finish the act successfully... all the while cursing himself for realizing that he was picturing  _him_ , not even his own girlfriend, in that toilet sucking him off.

Robert was hard now and he was cursing himself again and he couldn't help but unzip his trousers, reluctantly slide his hand inside and slowly begin to stroke himself. The knock and the muffled voice from the other side of the door startled him and he gasped.

"Robert?" He held his breath and didn’t move at that sound. "You alright?" It was Simon. What the hell was he doing here? Robert almost said aloud. Why had he followed him?

"Wha-What is it?" He was dazed, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Are you... alright?" The voice asked, hesitating.

Robert zipped up his pants and rose from the sofa. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he walked over and unlocked the latch.

"What?" He glared at him through the sliver of space between the cracked door, determined to maintain his icy exterior.

Simon's eyes fell from Robert's face to the floor, "Robert, I…" He fumbled, wanting to speak but was at a loss, his confidence quickly ebbing away as he stood facing him.

"What the fuck do you want?!" Robert snapped. His pale eyes could have burned a hole right through Simon. He tried to remain in control, all the while feeling his anger rise making his blood boil. Just why was he here? What did he want from him now when the answer as to how he really felt was patently obvious weeks ago? And to all of a sudden turn up with someone else... There was no reason why he should be standing before him now.

"I-I just wanted to-"

"Fuck off!!!" Robert suddenly dove forward and with his hands on Simon's chest shoved him backwards. He hit the wall behind him with a hard thud, losing his balance and falling to the floor on his back and before he even saw Simon hit the ground, Robert quickly slammed the door shut with such force that the windows shook. He rested his forehead against the cold wood of the door and felt his chest start to burn as he held back a sob, barely able to breathe and his eyes closed tightly.

What had he done?


	3. A Prayer For Something Better

The sound of rustling out in the foyer moments later brought Robert out of his regrettable thoughts, and as he turned his head to the side, he heard Simon pick himself up from the floor. Robert tried to speak but only a harsh whisper came from his throat and his hands moved against the wooden door, wishing he could stop him, but he had started to walk away.

Robert's chest heaved and he flung the door open.

"Simon!!!" He called hoarsely, his eyes beginning to sting with tears.

Simon looked back, his face almost stoic, and continued down the landing heading for the stairs.

"Please! Simon!" Robert caught up to him grabbing his arm, pulling Simon towards him and surprisingly, he hadn’t resisted.

"Why did you...?" Simon mouthed, "do that?!" His eyes were wide, the pain so evident on his face.

Robert couldn't bear to look at him like this. So hurt, so dejected and to know he alone had caused all of it. He reached his arm around him to draw him close, he couldn’t let him leave, but Simon knocked his arm away.

 _"No!"_  And Simon's eyes cast downward.

"Don't. Please, Simon I-I'm…" Robert felt so awful that this was what they were reduced to at this moment, "I'm sorry." It was a soft, desperate whisper.  There was nothing else he could say. He could only stand there in front of Simon with his hand still on his arm and look at his face.

"What do you-Why?" Simon’s breath was harsh, his voice shaking and gentle, yet so confused that Robert couldn't help but raise his hand to touch Simon's chin, lifting it, hoping to see that same gentleness in those dark eyes. And he did.

Robert stopped before the words left his lips. He couldn't bring himself to say it. He just couldn't, but oh, how he felt it. How he needed to touch him, embrace him. Robert's heart began to pound as he stepped in closer. He could feel the warmth of Simon's body, his back now to the wall. His hand was still under his chin, thumb lightly caressing his jaw as Robert moved in cautiously, pressing his lips to Simon's. He emitted a soft sound as Robert guided his head back and his hand, now on the side of his face, was caressing his skin, his hair… It was like they were in slow motion, kissing long and slow until Simon's lips parted - as if he knew just what Robert wanted - and Robert let out a low moan as he slid his tongue into Simon's mouth.

That sign of acceptance was all that Robert could have hoped for and he was pushing him up against the wall now, his mouth nearly devouring, sucking. Their bodies locked together kissing deeply and hungrily until Robert broke away and slid his hand along the front of Simon's shirt, trying to unbutton it with trembling hands, but failing. He finally, breathlessly, pulled it open, ripping the buttons from the black fabric as his lips crashed down onto Simon's again. He needed to feel all of him.

Simon sighed long and low as Robert put his hands on his burning skin, working his way over his chest as it was rising and falling quickly with every breath, their tongues tasting, their breath harsh and quick. Robert felt as if his body was on fire as his hands slid down further to Simon's stomach, then reaching around slowly, grabbing his ass with both hands. Simon let out a long whimper and slid his hands around to Robert's lower back, his fingers under the waistband of his trousers, clutching at his bare skin, pressing closer, pressing his groin into Robert making him gasp, sending a wave of lust through him.

He felt as if his entire body was shaking as he tore away from Simon, breathless. His hand slid down in between them pressing his hand down on his erection. Simon moaned, biting his lower lip, his eyes looking into Robert's with such heavy lids, then closing again. Robert kissed his neck as his hand reached Simon's belt, fumbling and then finally unbuckling it. He popped open the button, but suddenly stopped... Robert was motionless now, his face inches away from Simon's, the both of them trying to catch their breath as Robert's fingers froze on Simon's zipper. He held the air in his lungs back, then slowly pulled it down, sliding his hand inside his jeans. Robert shuddered as he touched Simon's hard cock. He pulled his jeans down lower on his hips and looked down as he slid his fingers along its length. It was so hard and so perfect.

"Robert..." a breathy whisper and then he gasped as Robert squeezed it gently and Robert couldn't take his eyes off of his face as he began to stroke.

Simon whimpered, pushing his head into Robert's shoulder muffling his moans, his other hand sliding under Robert's shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin. As Robert started to pick up his pace Simon's hips thrust into the movement and his head fell back against the wall, his moist lips trembling, breathlessly sobbing Robert's name.

Robert was so fucking hard now. He let out an uncontrollable, pained groan, kissing him furiously, jamming his tongue into his open mouth. He had been so tormented by his thoughts. He had imagined what it would be like for so long to watch him like this; to feel his hard cock in his hand, to watch him come.

As Robert stroked faster, Simon broke away from his lips, clutching Robert's neck, burying his face and whimpering softly as his body tensed and with one last shaking sob, Robert felt a warm wetness spill onto his hand.

Robert paused briefly to wipe his hand on his shirt. He wanted so desperately for Simon to touch his cock now that he  _ached._ He didn't care if his desperation showed. The world could have fallen away from them and it wouldn't have mattered. His desire consumed him.

Simon's chest was still heaving, still in a daze as Robert's eyes burned into his heavy gaze. He pulled him forward and kissed him again, deeply. He wrapped his arms around him as he turned them both, his back now against the wall. Robert unzipped his trousers and urgently pulled Simon's hand inside, gasping when his hand finally reached his cock. He was so painfully hard and Simon’s hand felt so unbelievably good... His palm cupping his balls, pressing down, caressing... Simon pushed his pants and his boxers down further until they fell to the floor.

He bit his lip as Simon slowly began to stroke, his other hand on Robert's ass, squeezing, "Ohh... Christ!" Robert sobbed breathlessly and desperately as he clung to him. He felt as if he would explode right then and at that very moment, he wanted nothing more than to have that hot, wet mouth wrapped around his cock. He let out an anguished groan at just the thought of it, licking and sucking on Simon's lips as he continued to stroke.

"Simon..." He hissed, breathless, "Suck me." Heat was rising in his body as he broke away, putting his hands on Simon's shoulders, pushing him down. As he knelt in front of him on the floor Robert's expression was incredulous, he was dizzy, hardly believing that this moment, the torturous moment he had pleasured himself to for so long in his mind, had become a reality.

Simon inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. His hands were shaking, slowly reaching up moving on Robert's hips, feeling, down his thighs - his touch burning into Robert's skin. He licked his lips, wrapping his hand around the base of his erection, finally taking him slowly and smoothly into his hot mouth. A long, loud moan escaped from Robert's lips uncontrollably as he watched, gripping Simon's head to take him in deeper.

"Ohhh!" Robert's head fell back against the wall, "Suck me... Suck my cock..." A horse whisper, pleading, barely forming the words left him as Simon began moving his head. His tongue sliding, his lips tight, moving rhythmically, sucking so hungrily. Robert's breath was coming in short spurts. His head was swimming. He couldn't think, couldn't see. No one else had ever made him this hot. No one else had  _ever_ sucked his cock this way.

"Let me... come..." A throaty whisper, barely audible in between breaths, "...in your mouth..." And at those words, Robert could hear a low moan from the back of Simon's throat. He picked up speed, sucking and stroking as Robert suddenly thrust deep into the back of his mouth, letting out a grunt. He heard a muffled gag from Simon and it was just too much. All he wanted was to fuck that mouth,  _hard_.

Robert sobbed aloud. He was almost there now and all too quickly. As he looked down at Simon's face his grip tightened in his hair and he thrust one last time, pushing his head deep onto his cock.

"Oh, fuck!" He gasped, panting breathlessly, " _Fuck!!!_ " He shuddered, his mouth dropping open as his orgasm shook his entire body. He held onto Simon, clutching desperately as he exploded, ejaculating a hot, wet stream into the back of his throat.

***         ***         ***

Simon slowed his movement and finally leaned away, still on his knees. He licked his lips and wiped the edge of his mouth with the back of his hand and zipped up his jeans. Robert remained against the wall, as if frozen to it with his eyes closed, his head buzzing as his breath gradually returned to normal. Simon watched as he pulled his trousers and boxers up over his hips and slowly began to slide down the wall onto the floor.

Robert's head dropped and he felt his stomach turn as they both sat on the floor in silence. He knew they could never take this back now. It had been done. And in an instant his mood shifted; the darkness and uncertainty had quickly enveloped him.

"Robert?" Simon asked timidly.

"Yes?" His voice was quiet, his head now buried in his hands. How could the moment he hoped for now smack with such utter regret. Everything he knew in this world was slipping away from them, from him.

"Are you okay?"

Robert let out a sigh, his voice trembling, "Please... Just leave."

"Why? What-"

 _"Get out of here!"_  His voice rose to a shaky, sorrowful moan, "  _Now!!!"_

Simon rose slowly and looked down at Robert, trying to contain his anger, shock and confusion as he let out a low whisper, " _You fucker..."_

He lingered for a moment, standing over him, but Robert didn't dare lift his head. He heard Simon hold back his breath, almost as if he was holding back a sob until he finally turned and walked away, leaving Robert on the floor alone.


	4. A Prayer For Something Better

"... So now we don't have a bass player? Is that what you're telling me? How are we supposed to tour and promote this piece of shit, then?!" Chris glared at Robert, slumped on the sofa.

Silence.

Chris' eyes shifted to Lol and he shook his head and lit another cigarette, "I don't know what's going on, and I honestly don't care Robert, but you just plan on getting him back here. It's too late to find someone else."

"Well, just find someone else Bill." Robert stated flatly.

"Are you even listening?!" Chris looked at him incredulous, "I think it's time you clear your head and stop with all that  _shit_ you've been stuffing up your nose as well." He shot both of them a look of disgust and he rose from the sofa, "Just get it sorted." He grabbed his jacket and left the room.

After a long silence Lol finally spoke, "Hey-ho... I'm out of here, mate." He stood and put his jacket on, "This is your bullshit." He grasabbed the pack of cigarettes from the desk and slammed the door behind him as he left.

The album was finally finished with a tour of Europe planned and Simon hadn't been present for most of it. When he did show up at the studio it was sporadic with his arm around a different woman almost every time in dark corners grunting and panting. Just barely out of Robert's earshot and conveniently within his peripheral vision, looking in his direction for most of the act. Robert could feel his eyes on him, even as Simon would climax. Otherwise, Simon kept his distance well away making sure they were never in the same room together alone. The tension was palpable to say the least.

Robert had no idea what Bill wanted from him and he knew Simon would be back. He wouldn't leave now, at least not until after this tour. After all, there was money involved wasn't there? And after that Robert couldn't care less about what happened. He lost faith in his own abilities and worst of all, in their friendship - or whatever it was at this point. He didn't even know anymore. He was just tired of making decisions. He had to stop thinking and he needed a drink.  _Several._ He stood, pulling on his jacket and exited the room keeping his head down, nearly colliding with another body as he took a step forward.

They both froze as their eyes met.

Simon's gaze hardened immediately at the sight of him, "Where's Bill?"

"Just left." Robert looked down again, "Well," He just couldn't stop, and added snidely, "If you're here for your paycheck, don't bother. You can just leave now and--"

Immediately he felt the sting of Simon's fist hitting the side of his head, knocking him hard into the door sideways. He slid to the floor.

 _"Don't you fucking tell me what to do!!!_ ” Simon bellowed, standing over him, shaking.

Lol suddenly appeared from the stairway and rushed over to them, "What the hell's going on?" His eyes were huge as he looked down at Robert, then to Simon, "Simon, what the  _fuck_?!"

Simon's eyes widened as he took a few steps backwards then turned, quickly descending the stairs. Robert sat up weakly and leaned against the door, his hand rubbing the side of his head where Simon had laid into him. Lol helped him stand and opened the door to the office.

"You alright?" Lol asked, guiding him into the room and then over to the sofa.

"Yeah." Robert held back a sob with a cough. He couldn't let Lol see that.

"You want some ice for your head?"

"No..." Robert shook his head, "No, I need a drink." He said dejected, his eyes gazing straight ahead, staring at nothing. He wished he had something stronger, but he was too tired to even begin to make the effort to score. Lol reached into his jacket and handed Robert his flask. He was so grateful for that, and for the fact that Lol knew him well enough to realize that he was in no shape to entertain questions right now. Probably not ever.

"Keep it for now." Lol stood leaning with his back against the desk with his arms crossed and eyed him  pitifully, “Right, I've got to go.”

He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him and Robert took a long drink from the flask, then listlessly sat back into the sofa. His head was throbbing from the blow he had received and he wondered how he could possibly get through the upcoming tour in one piece.

***           ***           ***

They finally arrived at the hotel and Robert retrieved the key from reception when he heard a low growl from behind.

"Fucker better be sharing a room with Lol..." It was Simon.

Robert trudged up the staircase, reaching their room: Simon's and his. He stepped inside and dropped his bag on the bed closest to the exit. He certainly wasn't planning on sitting here now and he moved towards the door, intent on heading straight for the hotel bar.

Simon was behind him and dropped his bag on the floor, "Yeah sure..." His voice dripping with sarcasm, " _Have a lovely evening then._ "

After almost two hours in the bar; the first half with the roadies, the second half alone slouched on a stool, Robert collected himself and headed up to their room.

He put the key in the lock and froze - he heard two voices panting and moaning and a bed creaking. He knew it was Simon and a woman.  _Of course!_ Why would he think anything had changed?  _Fuck it._  He thought and opened the door. He was on top of her, moaning as he fucked her.  _Those soft moans_... and Robert immediately thought of that night they were together and now, watching him fuck her… His face started to get hot and his groin stirred. He quickly strode to the bathroom and shut the door where he sat on the closed lid of the toilet with his head in his hands. He was trapped - and he couldn't believe he was starting to get hard now.

There was silence. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the moaning finally stopped. Robert heard rustling and the sound of a door opening and closing. He finally stood up, slowly opened the door and peered into the dimly lit room. Simon was asleep on his back, nude, amidst a tangle of sheets on the bed and Robert's breath hitched as he stood over the sleeping figure, his eyes taking in every inch of that body before him.

As his arousal grew he pulled off his shoes and trousers and slid his boxers down low on his hips and touched himself, rubbing slowly as he gazed down at Simon. He was so hard it hurt and he wanted so badly to touch him. He ached to come all over his beautiful body. He licked his lips and let out a low moan stroking his cock as he stood over him, imagining what it would be like to slide it into him.

"Oh, shit...!" He moaned desperately, already so excited and so close, his panting harsh and loud. He closed his eyes tight and his body tensed as he let out a strangled whimper and he came hard, shooting out in spurts onto the bed.


	5. A Prayer For Something Better

It was one of the worst shows they'd ever experienced. The sound was shit. They were shit; so drunk they could hardly stand. People were throwing bottles and cans at them on stage and punch-ups between the band and the audience were all too common. With the way this tour was going, and the throngs of uninvited hangers-on in the cramped backstage area, he was already beyond miserable and now even more drunk and surly. He stood in the back corner leaning against the wall drinking from the wine bottle, not bothering with a glass, all the while scanning the room...for him.

They hadn't said a word since they checked into the hotel the night before - the night he saw Simon naked on the bed. They both existed, although very rarely in that same room together, in a stubborn, awkward silence. Even during the show their only acknowledgment was a cold indifference, their gazes hard and fleeting.

I was torture just leaning against the wall alone until Simon shuffled through the doorway, vodka bottle in hand...and much to Robert's shock, with someone else by his side. Robert had never seen him before and it was quite obvious that they had walked in together. A stranger? A  _stranger_  that Simon chose to laugh with, to whisper so close in his ear, to share that same vodka bottle, yet they maintained a strained distance between each other and that distance was just enough and the shared look between Simon and the intruder made Robert's stomach drop. He hated the fact that he thought he saw something in Simon's eyes that was once so familiar to him and only to him, now so easily conveyed to someone else. He still wanted him so badly and after seeing his body, pleasuring himself to it, he wanted him more than ever. He couldn't get that image out of his mind.

By now his jealousy had swelled, fueled by alcohol as he stood watching him - Simon's laughter only managing to turn Robert's stomach. He had to leave. He couldn't watch this display any longer. He slammed the bottle down on the table and hastily walked past Simon, bumping into him on purpose and with force, sending him into the wall.

"The fuck is your problem?!" It was a drunken, annoyed slur at Robert and Simon's fist clenched at his side as if he was waiting for the right moment.

Robert whirled around unsteadily, eyeing him coldly, "Nothing." He stated unaffected.

"You're a miserable git." Simon snorted, muttering as he took a drink from the bottle. Robert took a step forward, closing in on him and Simon quickly flinched, backing away.

His eyes were wild as he looked up at Robert, "Stay the fuck away from me." It was almost a low growl.

Robert could've sworn he heard a  _tremble_  in that growl, and with that he dared to take another step forward. He leaned in with his arm outstretched, his hand on the wall beside Simon's head and his expression suddenly darkened.

"Go on then..." Robert challenged, his voice a low, defiant whisper, "Hit me again, if it'll make you fucking happy."

Simon's eyes widened and at that moment Robert's expression changed into a smug grin. As he turned away from Simon and began walking out of the room he unexpectedly felt two hands on his back and his body being jerked forward suddenly, sending him sprawling out of the room on his hands and knees, hitting the wall across from him in the hallway.

For a moment, Robert's vision turned grainy, and as he looked up, Lol and Chris were hovering over him, their mouths moving but all Robert could hear was a steady buzzing in his head.

Slowly a voice expressing shock finally filled his ears.

"....happened Robert? Robert are you okay?" Lol loomed over him.

"What the bloody hell happened, Robert?!" Chris struggled to pull Robert up by his arms, but he was practically dead weight from all the alcohol.

"Nothing." Robert's uttered. He was laughing dryly now and didn't even know why - he felt like screaming instead, "Nothing. I-I fell." He smiled weakly, closed his eyes and choked back a sob.

"Just- " He sighed, defeated, "I just want to go back to the hotel." His head rested against the cold wall behind him, his eyes closed tightly, "Please."

***          ***          ***

Robert awoke with a start. He had no idea how long he had been lying there with his face buried in the pillow and wasn't quite sure if the pain racking his body was from being knocked to the ground, or if it was from his frustration. His throat tightened and a sob exited his lips unexpectedly as images of Simon backstage with that person moved through his mind. He wondered where they met and only surmised that it had to have been earlier some time before the show. His mind went back to their time together, their closeness and how they had always shared their secrets. It seemed like it was all so long ago, but most of all, he thought of how they had touched each other and he couldn't bare someone else leaving their mark on him.

He wished he could take everything back and now he didn't know how to stop hurting, all he knew was how to drown it out. To keep it all at bay for just long enough.

At that moment he longed for more alcohol and wouldn't have cared if it killed him; anything to dull the pain and erase the events that had unfolded earlier. He let out a ragged sigh and opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the whiskey bottle on the floor beside him which was empty. He slowly focused on the clothing strewn about the room, finally settling on the unmade, empty bed across from him.

There was a knock at the door. Robert's head began to throb at the sound and he turned on his back.

"Go away." He whispered aloud, "Please..." He reached up to wipe his burning eyes.

Another knock.

"What?" Robert said hoarsely.

"Robert?"

It was Lol. He couldn't let him in here now-not like this. Robert tried unsuccessfully to prop himself up on the pillows, his body still so heavy from the wine and sleep. He didn't even know what time it was. "Should it matter?" He said aloud.

Silence.

"I've got Simon's key, you know." A short pause, "He asked me to..." An even longer pause, "...get his things." His voice trailed off.

"Fuck." Robert muttered, exhausted. He knew what that meant and his heart sank.

He felt trapped and turned back over on his stomach, quickly burying his face back in the pillow as Lol unlocked the door and stepped inside. His footsteps moved to the other side of the room, reaching for Simon's bag and gathering up discarded clothing on and around his empty bed, then finally moving to the door.

"Where is he?" Robert asked, his small voice muffled by the pillow. He couldn't bring himself to utter Simon's name and he already knew the answer to his own question, but had to hear it from Lol.

"He's gone out."

Lol shut the door quietly behind him and Robert closed his eyes tight again as the dull pounding in his head had returned.


	6. A Prayer For Something Better

He reached the dressing room at the end of the hall where he saw him slip into a while earlier. Simon had been an enigma, appearing only in the van, at sound checks and during shows, sliding in and out of view. Otherwise, he never lingered nor had he set foot in the hotel rooms he now shared with Lol.

They were a few months into the tour and the atmosphere mimicked the situation in the studio, although luckily, Robert had no longer been subjected to Simon's various conquests. Despite everything, he still wondered if he had a chance to convince him.

Robert took a breath and hesitated as he rested his hand on the door handle and tried to think of exactly what it was he needed to convince Simon of. He knew that he missed him and he hoped that would be enough, but it wasn't and he knew it. His thoughts would always revert back to Simon lying naked on the bed, how beautiful he looked as he came in Robert's hand and how he had sucked his cock. He had pleasured himself to those thoughts and images almost every night, crying out in the darkness, alone. The days turning into weeks, surrounded only by his vices; short-term chemical solutions which, in most cases, served only to exacerbate his maudlin state of mind. He was at his breaking point.

Tonight was no better than any other as he watched Simon on stage; his hair falling seductively over his dark eyes, his leather trousers hugging his perfect body. Robert had to track him down.

He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, opened the door just a crack and peered into the room. Simon was alone, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, a lit cigarette in his hand. His head fell back as he took a drag, exhaling a long plume of smoke. The door hinge creaked as Robert opened it wider and Simon froze as his eyes landed on him standing in the doorway. He hesitated and then his long legs lifted his body up, rising slowly until he stood. His dark gaze remained glued to Robert as he inched cautiously across the room and approached him.

Simon ground his cigarette out under his heel and finally spoke.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. His eyes were red and swollen and Robert could have sworn his cheeks were damp.

Robert had no response as he stood in front of Simon - so close to him after all this time. So close he could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath. Simon bit his bottom lip to conceal the trembling in it...and what that had meant to Robert. It was too much.

"Can I..." Robert licked his lips and swallowed hard, "Can I kiss you?" He closed his eyes and pictured those lush, full lips, his silky tongue inside his mouth. He could no longer wait for confirmation and suddenly slammed his mouth onto his, and to Robert's surprise Simon moved into the kiss almost immediately, leaning forward into his body. It was a long, hard, hungry kiss, their tongues meeting, sliding and swirling.

Robert could barely breathe as Simon pulled him closer by the hem of his t-shirt. They were almost devouring each other and it was what Robert had been dreaming of for so many nights. His hand reached up and caressed Simon's face and with one swift movement he wrenched his head back by his hair. Simon gasped as Robert began to suck on his neck, leaving wet, hungry kisses, his tongue licking his smooth skin. By now he had lost all composure. He reached around to that firm, leather-clad ass and squeezed it, sending a surge straight to his cock. He moaned loudly and pressed his erection into Simon, pushing him forcefully into the wall.

Suddenly, Robert felt his body being pushed backwards roughly.

"No!" It was almost a shout, "Stop it!" He tried to pull away and refused to look at Robert, his eyes beginning to well up.

"Let go!!!" He finally succeeded, and once out of Robert's grip, seemed to simply vanish from the room leaving Robert facing the stark, white wall alone.

He stood motionless for ages, just as Simon left him, his own breath the only sound filling the room. He contemplated following him, but decided it pointless as he had no desire to find out where he sought his refuge for all of these nights. But now he needed something to block out what had just occurred, confirming his deepest fear. As he began to walk down the corridor it was as if his body had become detached. He couldn't feel his own legs propelling him forward. He was in a nightmare and he had to find Lol or Gary now.

He stumbled into the club, spotting Lol at the bar immediately.

"Lol!" He called, almost out of breath. He approached the bar, keeping his head down, his heart was racing.

"Well, looks like you could use a drink." Lol downed the rest of his beer and studied Robert's pallor, immediately calling for two more pints. He slid one of them over to Robert who gulped down the entire contents in one go.

Lol only glared at him, "Steady on, Rob."

"I need--" Robert tried to slow down and began again, "Do you have anything?" He quickly asked, his eyes looking up. It was a desperate plea.

Lol hesitated for a few moments and took a drag from his cigarette, "Yeah, here." He relented and reached into his pants pocket. His hand smoothly slid a clear baggy into Robert's under the bar, "All I've got for now. Although I'm sure Gary's got more."

He didn't ask what it was and couldn't care less. He was only hopeful that it would send him into that other world in which he so frequently would rather wallow.

 


	7. A Prayer For Something Better

Robert was still sitting up with his legs over the side of the bed. He could've sworn he'd just woken up in his hotel room. Did he? He heard a rustling and the soft noise of female laughter as he slowly cracked open his swollen eyes, the light illuminating the room nearly blinding him. A blond haired figure, partially dressed was leaning over the bedside table with straw in hand, snorting the contents of the white powder on the tray. Beer, whiskey bottles and white powder residue littered almost every surface in the room around them, and just then a familiar laugh cut through his head.

How did Simon get in and why on earth was he even here?

"No..." Robert whispered aloud to himself. He had absolutely no recollection of the events leading up to this.

"Hey," Simon’s voice sleepily called to the girl, his arms reaching round the woman's waist, pulling her over to him. Simon was shirtless as well and he toppled her, their bodies pressed together, the both of them now on the floor at Robert's feet. He could do nothing but watch as Simon’s hands roamed her body until she broke away and laughed, whispering to Simon, "What about your friend here?" She kneeled in front of Robert, looked up at him and smiled. He tried to take control of his own swaying body but had no choice. Her hand settled on his cock and began to stroke, then soon after he felt her mouth... He remained upright as his gaze fell away from her bobbing head over to Simon. He sat up on the floor, quietly sliding back on the carpet until his body met the side of the other bed behind him. His hand raising a whiskey bottle lazily up to his mouth, their eyes never leaving each other's as the woman slowly continued to suck him off. Robert's obliteration was so apparent but his body had betrayed him and as his arousal grew, he began to panic. It wasn't what he wanted. He jerked the woman away from him, gasping as her mouth left his erection suddenly and harshly.

"No!" It was almost a sob, his eyes heavy but still open, "Stop..." He pleaded, barely managing the words. He began to pull his legs up and slid his body up onto the pillows.

The blond sat back on her knees, confused, "I don't underst--"

"You heard him," Simon interjected firmly, "Get the fuck out." He put the whiskey bottle on the floor with a thud and sat up, glaring at her.

She looked back at Simon and then back at Robert slumped sideways on the bed against the pillows with his head down. An awkward silence filled the room and with that there was no more protest as she slid her shirt back on, grabbed her things and left the room.

***            ***            ***

It felt like hours had passed and it was just the two of them now, sitting in that room together and it was all he could have hoped for, but there was something so wrong about it now. He didn't want it to be like this. Robert heard a faint rustling, opened his eyes and saw Simon crawling over to him on his knees.

"Robert?" There was no response.

He thought if he opened his mouth he would choke. He tried to collect himself, struggling to pull his shorts up over his hips. He finally managed a strained whisper, "Just…” He couldn't bring himself to look at Simon in the state he was in, "leave me alone." That was such a lie and he knew it. He never wanted Simon to leave him alone.

Simon's head dropped down, his gaze drifted to the floor. He raised his hand slowly, almost hesitating as he placed it gently on Robert's thigh. He opened his mouth to speak, "Robert." He finally looked up at Robert, his glazed eyes searching his face.

Simon continued, uncertain. It was as if he was holding back and he paused, "Robert, please..." It was the smallest whisper.

Robert wiped his damp eyes and looked down at Simon. Why was he here now in front of him like this when earlier that evening everything had been so different? And it suddenly occurred to him that it may not have even been the same night or the same week, and that thought made him feel like he would vomit.

He cringed at the thought of the repercussions the next few days would bring; eventually shedding light on every sordid detail leading up to this point. He knew he should leave, or at the very least show Simon the door, but his heart betrayed his head and he could not. He didn't understand how he was here with the one person he so desired, but simultaneously felt so completely confused, trapped and alone. What he wanted at that moment was to feel nothing, to just disappear.

"Simon," He slurred, "Don't you know that I-" Robert's voice trailed off. He had given up. He couldn't speak anymore; it simply hurt too much. Instead he reached up and wiped his eyes, his body trembling.

Simon studied his face intently, his eyes darting across every inch of it. He reached up and pulled Robert's hand away and brought it to his mouth, closed his eyes and gently kissed his palm. Robert let out a quiet sigh at the feel of Simon's soft, warm lips on his hand and his heart began to race. Simon opened his eyes slowly, his lids still heavy and when Robert looked into those dark eyes he could see such a longing- surely it was the same longing that he himself had been feeling. He gently pulled his hand away and Simon let out a trembling breath, still on his knees as he inched closer to the bed and his face stopped just before Robert's. He was waiting.

They remained motionless, their shallow breathing the only sound, and now Robert knew he had to make that move. He couldn't resist that feeling and it overtook all of his senses as he pulled him in, their lips pressing together... That kiss was everything he had been wishing for; so slow and so soft. Robert's throat made a small pained sound and he felt as if he was falling, melting into Simon's arms.

Robert's hands moved from Simon's face to the back of his head, grasping his soft, dark hair, then down onto his neck. His fingers were tingling at the feel of his smooth, warm skin as he let out a soft groan and Robert pulled him in further, his body now in between his legs up against the bed. He couldn't stop pulling him closer. His tongue licked at his full lips, begging for entry into that lush mouth. Both of their moans were muffled as Simon's lips parted and their tongues met, mouths opening wider, urgently sucking. Robert moved his hands from Simon's back and then down his bare chest, so desperate to finally feel him after all this time. He eagerly pressed his palms firmly onto his skin, and he could feel Simon shiver at his touch. His hands moved down and around to his sides, his hips and down even further. Robert could barely breathe and broke his mouth away from Simon as he stopped just above his very apparent erection as his jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from that sight. His shaking hand slowly slid down to his cock. It was so hard, so slick... and as Robert touched him lightly, he gasped.

Simon moved away slightly from Robert's hand. But his face, his lips were still so close he could feel the warmth of his labored breathing, and with his eyes still closed, he licked his lips, brushing them lightly against Robert's face, sending a shiver down his spine and arousing him even more. As Simon spoke, he felt their softness move faintly against his cheek.

His voice was low and raspy, "Please ... Can I?" He paused,as if to restrain himself and finally let out a lustful breath, "Let me-let me suck you."

Robert's cock was so hard at hearing those words he thought he would burst. He closed his eyes and a low sound escaped from the back of his throat as Simon's hands moved up his thighs. Robert gasped as he cupped his erection through his shorts, rubbing and how Robert longed to feel his hand on his bare skin. He leaned back and lifted his hips as Simon swiftly guided his shorts off and onto the floor. His head tipped back as he closed his eyes and almost immediately, he felt a warm hand glide up and down the length of his cock, so slowly and smoothly. Simon's head dipped and he felt gentle, damp kisses on his inner thighs until he finally took him in his warm, wet mouth.

"Simon!" Robert hissed, "Oh, God!" It was incredible - that luscious mouth wrapped around him. It was so good he never wanted it to end. He raised his head and looked at Simon as he sucked, his head moving up and down between Robert's thighs. He weaved his fingers through his dark hair that always fell so seductively over his eyes, guiding his head down further to take his cock in deeper.

"Mmm..." Robert's hummed, his breathing was becoming erratic and his hips were thrusting involuntarily as he continued to watch Simon sucking and stroking. His tongue…that beautiful mouth... it sent Robert into oblivion so quickly, but he had to take control, they had to stop, he couldn't let it end like this.

"No, Simon! Please, no!" To say that was the most difficult thing in the world at that moment. Robert was breathless. He could barely contain his lust and he reached down and grabbed at his shoulders causing Simon to stop abruptly, his head reluctantly rising as Robert sat up.

"Come here." Robert whispered and reached down to brush the hair out of Simon's eyes, gazing, burning into them so intently. And Robert pulled him in for a long, hungry kiss until he finally broke away and put his lips to his ear, gently licking. He had wanted to say it to him for so long but felt such anguish, such shame at even admitting to what he really wanted to do with him.  _To him_. And it was only ever Simon...

"Simon." Robert breathed, "I-I...want..." His whisper was barely audible, he struggled, "I want ... to ....to fuck you..." His voice trailed off, his mind spinning with confusion, fear and lust at the uttering of his own words.

Simon pulled back and looked at Robert's face, into his eyes and he suddenly kissed him hot and hard. His hands slid under Robert's shirt and Robert moaned at that feeling; just having Simon's hands on him made him swoon. He slipped his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the bed. Robert was helpless against this. Against _him_ … And Robert's hands slid around to Simon's back and around to his hips as he pushed down on his jeans urgently.

"Please!" He let out an anguished plea as he tried wrenching the snug denim down his legs with no success, until Simon broke away, sat back on the carpet and wriggled out of them, throwing them across the floor. He slid up onto the bed next to Robert and Robert's gaze never left him as he slowly turned onto his back. As Robert's eyes hungrily took in all of that body before him; the same body he pleasured himself to months before - that same beautiful body that made him burn with such confusion and lust - Simon took hold of Robert's hand and slowly, gently brought it to his lips. He opened his mouth slightly and took his fingers in.

Robert sucked in a breath at that feeling and was in a daze as he watched Simon. His wild hair partially draped over those dark eyes. He could feel his smooth, hot tongue swirling and sucking slowly. It was undoing him and he quickly pulled his fingers from his mouth, reached down and slid them inside of him.

Simon moaned and his eyes closed tightly. His breath became quick and his hips moved up against the rhythm of Robert's fingers, slowly in and out, grabbing onto his arm.

It was so unbelievable. He was awestruck at the very fact that he could have this effect on Simon. He suddenly withdrew his fingers, and put his hand on his shoulder and pushed. He didn't need to say a word; Simon knew just what that meant. He rolled over quietly onto his stomach and lifted his hips as Robert crawled behind him, his trembling hands running over his back, his hips...slowly moving towards Simon's opening. He guided his aching, hard cock with his hand and ran it over the smooth skin of Simon's ass just before he slowly pushed in. And when he finally did, so slow, inch by inch, a wordless moan so anguished escaped his lips, and he had to stop before he came. He held in a deep breath, trying to steady himself while Simon's head was down on the pillow, his back expanding and contracting with his labored breathing, sweat glistening off of his body, and Robert began to move again. It was like nothing he had ever felt before; so good, so hot, so tight and so...

Robert withdrew and then thrust into him again, desperately gripping onto Simon's hips to pull him back. Holding him there as he closed his eyes and let out a pained whimper before thrusting into him again. Muffled moans were becoming more audible as Robert began to pick up speed and those soft sounds he won from him in time with each thrust excited him all the more. He knew he couldn't last much longer.

Robert’s hands were now grappling at Simon's body and he began to push back hard as Robert slid his cock in and out, so fast, so greedily... almost losing control completely. Simon raised his head from the pillow and balanced himself awkwardly, moving his hand to his cock to stroke himself, all the while moaning Robert's name in between each exerted, shaking breath.

He finally opened his eyes only to see Simon stroking himself as he was fucking him and he couldn't help but let out a desperate moan of lust.

"Oh, fuck... Simon!" Robert murmured, grunting as each thrust sent him helplessly closer to the edge.

Simon let out a strangled whimper and shuddered as he suddenly came in his hand, spurting out onto the bed and just then, at that unexpected site it was all over for Robert. He thrust one last time, shut his eyes tight and clutched onto Simon out of sheer desperation, coming so hard inside of him that he could only hear his own long, ragged cry and his racing heart pumping furiously in his ears.

His movement slowed and without warning, his exhausted limbs gave out as he simply collapsed onto Simon's back, sending the both of them crashing onto the bed in a sweaty heap, their bodies now motionless from exhaustion, their hot, harsh breath filling the air in the small room.

Robert slowly pulled out of him and rolled over to his side and as his breathing gradually returned to normal, his arm settled on Simon's waist as he pulled him closer to his body. Simon cracked his eyes, peering at Robert, his gaze falling onto his face. There was no expression that Robert could gauge at that moment other than exhaustion which wasn't an unrealistic assumption. Simon's eyes slowly closed and as Robert heard his breathing grow deeper, he reached his hand up to his hair to stroke it softly, gliding his fingers gently over the side of his face as he slept.

It was a faint, hushed whisper, "So beautiful..." And Robert's eyes struggled to hold the last gaze of that vision before him just before drifting off.

 


	8. A Prayer For Something Better

The air was thick, stuffy with the lingering smell of cigarettes and stale beer as Robert shifted in the bed, still on his stomach, the sheets covering the lower half of his body. He coughed and extended his arm, hoping to feel smooth skin beside him, but there was nothing. Only a cold feeling of where a warm body should have been. As Robert turned his head and opened his eyes, his gaze fell upon the pillow and the emptiness in bed next to him and suddenly, the details that he could actually remember from the night before came careening back into his mind. He shut his eyes tight and inhaled sharply at those events; what he and Simon had done.

He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It was only nine o'clock in the morning, judging from the light seeping through the drapes, and to him it meant nothing now. In any case, he would have no idea of exactly how many days had passed or what had happened in that unknown span until he met up with the others, or at least Lol, as Simon seemed to have already disappeared …maybe he was in the toilet.

Robert raised his head from the pillow and turned toward the bathroom when, from out of nowhere, the room began to spin, a sour taste filled his mouth and he began to gag. He felt his stomach lurch as he quickly rose from the bed and took a step, his leg tangling in the sheets, sending him falling to the floor with a thud. Trying to regain his breath, Robert crawled his way into the cramped bathroom, grappling with the lid of the toilet seat, finally finding enough strength to push it up, and then uncontrollably spewing the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He steadied himself ungracefully and gripped the sides of the cold, smooth porcelain as another wave of sickness shook his body. Finally spent, he slumped back into the wall, his eyes fighting to remain open, but soon failing.

There was a loud pounding on the door, rousing him suddenly. He didn’t know if he’d been sitting in the tiny, cold bathroom for minutes or hours.

"Robert! Robert, are you in there?"

His eyes cracked open gradually and focused fuzzily on his outstretched legs in front of him and there was more pounding on the door - he could never get away, it seemed. He longed desperately for darkness and quiet, and now he was freezing. He shifted the weight of his naked body on the cold tile floor and immediately recalled where he had ended up a few hours before, or was it days?... and his head began to pound. It was his worst nightmare.  _Oh, so very dignified_ , he thought, disgusted at himself, and even more disgusted at the entire state of affairs that he alone, had caused. Not just his infatuation with excess, but his infatuation with Simon and what it had reduced him to, which was something less than human.

Now he had to merely get through this day, the rest of this tour…but how?

His head dropped and he winced at the sour taste still in his mouth.

"Fuck." He said curtly aloud, and shakily rose from the cold floor.

"Robert!" Lol was relentless.

 _"What???!!!"_  Robert's voice hissed angrily. There was no response from Lol and he continued through clenched teeth, "For fuck's sake!  _What??!!"_

"Are you ... alive in there, then?"

"What the fuck do you think??!!" Robert could have killed him, "Fucking idiot!" He mumbled, furious.

He leaned over, his hands balancing himself on the sink and as he looked up, his eyes lingered for a moment on his reflection and he promptly spat on the dull mirror before him.

***          ***          ***

The ride to the next city occurred in silence as hangovers and lack of sleep had taken their toll on each of them. Robert was seated alone in the back of the van, his head leaning against the cold metal of the window frame with his gaze mostly fixed on his hands in his lap. He refused to meet Simon’s eyes or anyone else’s during the journey and when the van stopped in front of the hotel, he trudged past each of them not uttering a word.

He stepped into the lift in the lobby and as the doors were beginning to close a hand came in between, separating them sending them springing back. It was Lol.  _This is all I fucking need,_ Robert thought as they stood across from each other with bags in hand.

“So,” Lol began, his eyes met Robert’s reluctant gaze. He was hoping that his now cold, indifferent stare would deter him but it was futile, and much to Robert’s disappointment, he began to speak, “Looks like you survived yesterday.” His eyes were searching Robert’s face and Robert had no clue as to why or what he could possibly want from him right now.

“Well," He continued to drone on, "You know –“

Robert let out an exaggerated sigh and immediately cut him off.

“Lol, I don’t give a shit.” He was blunt and he wanted this to be over. He didn’t feel the need to ever be lectured, especially by him, and his eyes darted over to the glowing row of buttons on the panel in front of him. If he had met his gaze, he would have hit him for sure.

The doors finally opened and Robert quickly brushed past, intent on heading to his own room, where he could finally be left alone.

“Oh, really?” There was a hint of sarcasm as Lol was not convinced, and possibly knew Robert better than he would like to have thought, “You don’t give a shit?!” He continued, following close behind.

His question went unanswered as Robert plodded down the corridor in front of him.

“You have no idea, do you?” Lol asked.

Robert stopped short and whirled around to face him, by now his exasperation was apparent and he hissed bitterly, pausing between each word carefully, “I _…… don’t…… care._ ” Robert glared at him and as far as he was concerned this conversation was over, until a smug grin spread slowly over Lol’s face and he spoke again.

“Well, I’m sure Mary cares - or  _did_ anyway.”

Robert felt his rage finally boil over and roughly grabbed Lol by his shirt, slamming his body into the wall behind him. He felt like an animal, baring his teeth as a growl escaped his throat, “Don’t you ever fucking say! – “

Lol abruptly shoved Robert back away from him, prying his hand from his shirt. He straightened himself out and took in a deep breath, exhaling before he spoke again.

“You know…” He paused and eyed Robert with a mixture of resentment and weariness, “You were lying in the middle of the street. I thought you were dead.” He cleared his throat, “We thought you’d really, finally just… gone and done it.” He looked down quickly, avoiding Robert’s eyes as he kept going, “That was only after the phone call to her. And after you… you…” His voice trailed off, the last bit failing to leave his lips.

Robert’s body stiffened, his gaze shot up to Lol’s briefly and just as their eyes met, he instantly averted them to the floor.

“What?” Robert’s voice was quiet as he slowly and thoughtlessly dropped his bag to the floor. He began to speak again, listlessly “What phone call?”

“The call to Mary.” He sighed, almost pitifully, “Apparently, you were so out of it that you rang her in the middle of the night…numerous times.”

“What happened?” Robert’s eyes clenched shut. He wanted to push back down everything that was surfacing but it was ultimately unavoidable, just as he knew it would be. Lol shifted on his feet as he continued to slowly unfold the events of that evening.

“Don’t know. Apparently, Simon was there with you. He called us later.”

And there it was.  _Simon_. Robert couldn’t imagine in his wildest dreams that it was Simon who had sought him out, stayed with him. And worst of all, helped him. Why did it have to be him? Why did Simon, of all people, have to see him at the lowest point possible in his life? And Mary… she was the last person he ever wanted to trouble with his woes, his transgressions. She deserved none of it. Robert dejectedly let his back meet the wall behind him, his head still down with his eyes on the floor.

“Earlier you were with… them.” Lol’s voice was quiet now.

Robert looked up, afraid to ask, “Who is  _them_?”

“Simon and… Oh, I don’t know - another bloke.”

Robert’s eyes widened and he began to panic. His stomach dropped at hearing that. His words came out mechanically, as if it wasn’t even himself speaking, “ _What other bloke_?” His throat tightened as he waited for an answer.

“Have no idea.” Lol shrugged, “I’ve seen him before though, with Simon.”

Robert thought he would be sick. He was too terrified to ask the next logical question.

“That’s all I can tell you," Lol lit a cigarette, "Other than the fact that you were with those two earlier, doing mass quantities of blow at the club, then again at God-knows-where, then back at the room... drinking until you blacked out, then you were running back out in the street again half clothed making phone calls to Mary at the hotel and then in random phone booths and that’s where you vomited, then collapsed in the middle of the road. So I’m told… I left after the club fiasco." He took a drag of his cigarette, "In any case, Simon was with you for most of it and he’s the one who called us and we helped you back to your room.”

Robert’s body slid down the wall onto the floor. His head began to ache as he tried to run through the events that Lol had recited so matter-of-factly.

“Oh, and yeah…” To Robert’s horror, Lol felt the need to add more, “The club fiasco… you held Simon captive in the back corner and couldn’t keep your hands off of him.”

“ _What???”_ It was barely a word, only a small sound emitted from his lips as his body slumped over. He was mortified.


	9. A Prayer For Something Better

He sat slumped against the wall, just where Lol had left him and he was unable to dispel his sinking feeling as Lol's words ran through his mind repeatedly.

_'You were with them...'_

His head now throbbing with the turn of events that had surfaced from the night before and a creeping feeling of trepidation coursed through his body at the thought of all the unknown sordid details.

"Christ!" Robert's hoarse whisper echoed in the dark corridor.

He cringed as his eyes clenched shut at the memory of what he and Simon had done together and couldn’t erase that vision from his mind. He had wanted him… and after waiting so long, finally had him.  _He fucked him_. Robert felt shame and lust at the very thought of it, but most of all, frustration at his own conflicting emotions. He admitted grudgingly to himself that Simon had been his affliction, and that grim admission would be his undoing.

And Mary… he still loved her. And instantly there was no doubt in his mind that it was now truly over between them; convinced that his abhorrent behavior had just helped to hasten their decline.

People were now walking past his slumped, motionless body on the floor with looks of puzzlement. Robert was oblivious to them and the world around him and slowly rose from the floor. He felt so cold now, as if the blood had been drained from his body and the short walk to reach his room felt like it took a lifetime. He eventually arrived at his room where he suddenly halted with the key in his hand just hovering before the lock. As if in a trance, he gazed blankly at the door for a moment then simply turned away, continuing his trek down the corridor.

***           ***           ***

The bar was only half full and none of the others were there, much to Robert’s delight. As he pressed up against the counter, he hoped to remain just another anonymous face, preferring to drown his sorrows alone for the evening. He ordered another pint, eagerly downing the contents of his glass with his eyes fixed only on the grain of the wooden counter before him.

He didn’t respond to a prod from behind on his shoulder until the movement repeated itself and Robert turned around.

“Haven’t seen Simon, have you?” A voice asked.

Robert froze and his stomach dropped. It was  _him,_ that  _other bloke_. Robert’s mouth opened, but no sound came. He coughed, attempting to catch his breath and turned back around, his eyes darting to the bottom of his empty glass. He slid it forward on the bar, and called for a whiskey this time. Robert placed the glass up to his lips, tilted his head back and swallowed the contents, feeling the numbing burn of the whiskey down his throat, immediately warming his body. He ordered another.

“Well, have you?” The man demanded, his voice growing louder, “Robert!” He was waiting. Robert wondered how he even knew his name. He didn’t know his, or maybe just didn’t remember – nor did he care to.

Robert knocked back the next glass, not bothering to turn around again. He put it down, tossed some cash at the bar haphazardly to settle his bill and hastily picked up his bag and began to move in the direction of the door. He had to escape, quickly.

“Wait!” The man’s hand was instantly on his sleeve, pulling him back towards him. Robert’s eyes widened at that contact and pulled his arm harshly in the opposite direction, but the man’s strong grip was unwavering, holding Robert in place with both broad hands on his upper arms, squeezing.

“Get off!" Robert struggled to pull away again.

“Yeah, well…” He cut Robert off and smiled coldly, leaning in, his face much too close to Robert’s causing him to shrink back.

"You tell your fucking mate  _Simon_  that he owes me a good bit of money.” Then a harsh snarl, “And I want it.”

He leaned in even further and Robert had to turn his face away now as he could feel his hot breath against his cheek, but he couldn’t escape his tight, painful grip.

“You tell him that.” And instantly, that husky voice dropped to a low, deviant growl, “ _My lovely…”_

And a  _tongue_  suddenly darted out, firmly licking upwards on the side of Robert’s face and Robert recoiled, his eyes widening in horror. He quickly tried to wipe the wetness away with the back of his hand, but his arms were still captive under the main’s grip as he stood before him, a satisfied, wide grin emerging across the stranger’s face, his eyes dark and fixed on Robert's.

Robert felt like the breath had been sucked out of him and could do nothing but lurch backward, finally freeing himself and his arms were numb. Disoriented, he scrambled for his bag that had dropped from his shoulder to the floor and he reeled around to find his footing, and frantically stumbled his way over to the door.


	10. A Prayer For Something Better

His vision was blurred with rage and tears as he reached his room, his breath harsh and his hand shaking as he struggled to insert the key into the lock. After numerous fumbling attempts to open the door he finally succeeded, dropped his bag, threw on the light and before he even stepped into the room, Robert froze. On the floor was an open toiletry bag, the contents of which were strewn about the floor. It certainly wasn’t his, but he recognized it and next to it was what looked like a used syringe along with other accompanying paraphernalia.

Robert’s mouth went dry as he rapidly glanced over the room. His eyes fell on a head of dark hair visible from the other side. He couldn’t make out who it was exactly as the body was obscured by the length of the bed, but judging from the familiar mass of wild hair, he was now almost positive it was Simon. Robert stepped over to the foot of it and peered over, taking in a sharp breath at the sight before him. Simon was hunched with his back up against the side of the bed, a tourniquet still wound around his arm. Robert's eyes widened and a sudden feeling of the room, rushing up to meet him took hold. He reached out to steady himself, leaning on the doorway for support. He rushed over to the still body and quickly dropped to his knees on the floor directly in front of Simon, searching for movement in his lifeless limbs or any sign of respiration, but it was useless as his face was slumped into his chest.

Robert’s head was spinning and a feeling of panic and sickness washed over him as he roughly loosened the tourniquet with trembling hands and tossed it away. He placed both hands firmly on the sides of his face, shaking it, desperately hoping to rouse him, hoping he would see life in those eyes once again.

Simon’s head rose slowly and Robert could finally hear a long, low breath. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes opened sleepily as a small sound escaped from his throat. As he gazed at Robert crouching in front of him, a dreamy, wide grin gradually spread across his face.

“Hmm…” It was a low hum and then after a pause, a long, drawn out whisper, “Robert…”

His head moved forward slightly and, unexpectedly, his lips pressed onto Robert’s. It was a small, gentle, movement catching him by surprise. The feeling of Simon's mouth against his was bliss. He could have stayed like that for a lifetime with their lips just touching, their breath the only sound filling the room. Robert finally kissed him back slowly, cautiously, without taking his hands away from his face and suddenly, a sob swelled in Robert’s throat that he couldn’t hold back. His body trembled as he pulled away from Simon and he sat back. As his eyes searched his face, he felt uneasiness at what he actually saw; dark, glassy eyes with eyeliner that had smeared, exaggerating dark circles and a sunken expression that Robert had never seen before, or perhaps... just never bothered to notice, and he winced at that realization. He didn’t want to look at Simon like this, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Simon.” It was a mournful sigh as Robert’s breath was being choked with uncontrollable sobs. He leaned forward and rested his head onto Simon’s shoulder, taking in his scent and realizing just how much he missed it, craved it, even.

He lifted his head and attempted to suck in more air. He had to tell him, “Please, don’t…” His eyes were searching his again, pleading. He brought his hand up to the side of Simon’s face, the very hand that longed to hit him just moments earlier to leave a bruise for all to see, was now instead smoothing back his disheveled hair, pushing it away from his eyes, “Please, stay...” He swallowed and hesitated for a few moments, before adding softly, “... with me.” And a small, pleading whisper exited his lips as he sank his head into Simon’s shoulder once again, “Don’t leave me…”

 


	11. A Prayer For Something Better

Robert’s eyes cracked open slowly, the blinding light of day assaulting his senses through the open drapes. As he tried to roll over, he felt a warm body pressed up against him, blocking his movement.

“Simon?” Robert hadn’t even realized that he croaked out his name and the familiar heaviness in his chest returned as last night’s cataclysmic discovery had crept back into his head. He didn’t want to think about that now while he lay in bed with Simon comfortably asleep beside him. Instead, he replayed the memory of the two of them drifting off in Robert’s arms on the floor. Recalling himself eventually waking up, helping Simon undress and crawl into bed, pulling the sheets up over them both, holding him close as they drifted off once again, warm and safe. He recognized that feeling wouldn’t last for long, and Robert thought regretfully, once they would be out of that bed things would take a turn for the worse.

Simon rolled onto his stomach with his head facing the wall on the pillow, away from Robert and he mumbled something inaudible, still asleep. Robert sat up on his elbow, his body pressed lightly against Simon’s side, quietly gazing down at him as he slept.

Simon shifted slightly, and unknowingly, closer, his warmth radiating against Robert and his now fervent gaze fell upon the smooth, muscular exposed skin of Simon’s shoulders and upper back, rising and falling peacefully with each breath.  Robert’s heart fluttered in his chest as he carefully, gingerly, began to slide the sheets down the length of Simon’s back, inch by inch, finally revealing the curves of his firm, bare buttocks.

Robert turned his face away for a long moment and blinked, trying to compose himself as he felt heat rising in his body and his arousal stir. He inhaled deeply and turned back towards Simon. His eyes utterly captivated by what he saw lying prone up against him. Robert reached out his hand, pausing before delicately fondling a perfect cheek, sending a shock straight to his groin as he made contact with that skin.

He shuddered and slowly slid his hand down between them, settling it on his hard cock. He inhaled, then sighed deep and low, trying not to wake Simon and telling himself he would keep looking at that intoxicating body for as long as his eyes would allow before he came, and with that he began to stroke himself, pausing to rub the tip of his slick cock on the smooth skin beside him.

A moan left his mouth involuntarily and he quickly bit his lip to stifle himself, but it was futile. He needed to feel Simon’s warm hand around him so badly, his moans becoming more audible as he continued to stroke. His breathing was quick and harsh and he fought to keep his eyes open, but finally relented as they rolled back, closing tightly. He couldn’t break free from the wanton thoughts and images running rampant through his mind. He wanted so badly to explode all over Simon’s body, in that voluptuous mouth. He ached to slide his cock inside him once again, to feel his heat, his exquisite tightness, to scream his name as he fucked him.

He could no longer support himself as his hand picked up speed, falling onto his back and after a moment, felt the mattress shift and a pair of soft lips pressed firmly on his, startling him, causing him to gasp and move his hand away from his erection. He opened his eyes briefly to see Simon kissing and licking at his lips in earnest, his hand on his face. Simon leaned in further, his tongue quickly darting into Robert’s open mouth, pulling and sucking. Their muffled moans growing louder as their chests pressed together, hands eagerly exploring, moving over bare skin. He could feel Simon’s heart racing and he was almost on top of Robert now, pressing him into the mattress.

Simon slowly slid his hand down between them, wrapping it around Robert’s cock, squeezing it slightly as Robert moaned into his mouth. Simon began to stroke and Robert’s hands groped him, trying to feel every inch of his skin as he pulled his body on top of him harder, tighter. Finally placing his hands on his ass as Simon’s mouth moved away abruptly, letting out a long moan and a grunt as Robert squeezed it firmly, lecherously. Simon was shaking, his mouth slamming down again on Robert’s, his hand sensually feeling his face as they kissed, his thumb grazing his bottom lip, almost imploring him to open his mouth wider as they sucked and moaned, their bodies writhing tightly against each other, arousing Robert even more.

He couldn’t take it anymore and tore himself away, “Simon…” He choked, he could barely speak, but he had to give in to this. He couldn’t stop himself. It was an urgent, trembling plea, “Your mouth… I-I need...” He could no longer beg for what he so intensely craved. He was almost in tears.

  
Suddenly, all movement ceased. Their chests were heaving as Simon pulled back and looked at Robert’s face, his eyes finally meeting his, the desire, the lust all too apparent in them, “Robert…” It was a desperate, impassioned sigh. And it was all for him. It was all for Robert.

Simon’s mouth slammed down on his neck, hissing Robert's name again through his kisses, sending a deep tremble through to his core. Simon continued to slide down slowly, kissing his chest, his stomach. His hands following, moving over him with such want, such heat, it set Robert’s entire body on fire. He moved lower, sucking anxiously at his skin, tantalizingly avoiding his erection, leaving wet kisses on his thighs, licking… Robert whimpered loudly and impulsively as he opened his eyes to see that head of dark hair moving up his body again. His pink, wet tongue trailed on his skin, landing gently on his balls, licking them, sucking them, his fingers just near his opening, massaging him into a frenzy.

He grabbed Simon’s arms, forcefully pulling them towards him, “Please!” It was an anguished cry. And just as that cry left his throat, he felt the sweet, hot wetness of Simon’s mouth around his cock at last. His smooth, firm tongue sliding up and back along his length was such blissful torture Robert was rendered helpless, reduced to sobbing and moaning all at once. He was delirious and he struggled to open his eyes, wanting to take in everything; watching Simon suck him, hearing those small muffled sounds as his luxurious mouth moved up and down Robert's engorged cock, so perfectly, so ravenously.

Robert was powerless to stop his hips from moving now, his hands firmly holding Simon's head, tangled in his hair, as he thrust deep into the back of Simon’s throat with a grunt, feeling him gag; the sensation almost making him come.

“Oh, yes…!” He whimpered. He was almost there.

But then his mouth was gone.

“Wh-what are--?” And before Robert had the chance to catch his breath to voice his confusion and protest, Simon’s body moved up, their eyes meeting briefly as Simon pressed a finger against Robert’s lips, silencing him.

Their heavy panting now the only sound as Simon hovered above him for a moment, composing himself before moving down slowly to press his face to the side of Robert’s head, kissing his hair, his mouth grazing his ear, “R-Robert…” He licked his lips before emitting a low, obscene whisper, “Fuck me.”


	12. A Prayer For Something Better

Simon didn't turn up for sound check or for dinner that evening. He had quietly slipped out of Robert's room as he slept and Robert hadn't seen him since. Now he had more than just a good idea as to exactly why he had left. He couldn't help but think that after what had happened between them earlier and what Robert had held in his heart. If this was how it was going to be the time for bestowing pity on Simon was now over. It had to be as far as Robert was concerned.

He sat slouched alone at an empty table, separated from the others, his gaze not moving from his untouched plate of food. He reached for another drink, pouring the vodka in a glass then tossing the contents down his throat quickly. He needed to simply stop feeling anything. He needed another.

There was a commotion out in the hallway; the sound of muffled voices rising, becoming louder. Robert was only absolutely sure of one of the voices, although the other sounded very familiar. Could it be...that bloke? No.  _Not here_.

They were arguing now, the voices getting closer.

The door flung open and Simon looked up as he walked into the room, his body halting for a moment when he saw Robert sitting in the back corner. He quickly looked down and continued walking over to the opposite table to where the others were seated, eating.

"Where the hell's the bloody whiskey?" Simon asked, his voice tense.

"Vodka." Lol answered, his mouth full, "Over there." He pointed to the bottle that was at Robert's table.

Simon shuffled over and grabbed the bottle off the table quickly. He turned around and began walking, only to abruptly stop at the sound of Robert's words.

"Nice of you to find the time to turn up." He stated, flatly.

The others immediately halted their conversations and all eyes were now on Simon standing in the middle of the room alone. His head sunk down and his gaze quickly moved to the floor as he took in a deep, shaky breath.

After moments of awkward silence Robert finally spoke again.

"Do you really think you're well enough to finish this tour?" Robert continued, addressing him with a deliberate aloofness, then finally answering for him, "Maybe not. I just don't see the point of you being here at all. If you're not going to bother to turn up we need to get --"

"No!." Simon interjected, his voice and his frustration rising, "You don't need to..." He struggled, "I-I don't want anyone else-" Simon stopped abruptly at those last words. His eyes darted over to Robert's, a desperate, pleading stare, his lips trembling.

Robert didn't take his eyes from him as he stood up and walked over to Simon who was now visibly shaking. His gaze remained steely-blue and impenetrable as he spoke, his voice dropping in tone, but clearly discernible to everyone present.

"It's not my fucking job to babysit you. Nor is it my responsibility to support your habits." His face was inches from Simon's, eyes darting to that mouth. Robert had almost hoped he would just hit him and it would be over. All of this.

But instead...

"You don't fucking know anything." Simon's imploring gaze had quickly turned into a glare in a matter of seconds, "Huh..." He sniffed, "You're no better."

A twinge of regret flashed behind Robert's eyes as he maintained his cool, detached exterior and Simon lifted the bottle up to his lips taking a long gulp. Their seething stares were unwavering, both poised as they stood facing each other.

It was Lol's voice that finally cut through the constricting silence. "Knock it off, you twats. Let's finish this fucking thing in one piece, eh?" He stood and walked past Simon taking the bottle from his hands for himself as he left the room with an exaggerated sigh, "Shit..." His last word trailed along with him out of the room.

Simon looked down again and a small, choked sob escaped his lips as he watched Robert follow Lol out of the room in silence.

***         ***          ***

Robert left the stage at the end of their performance in a fit of anger, practically slamming his guitar down on the stage floor not caring if it shattered into a million pieces. He'd had enough. The longer the tour wore on the worse they played and tonight was especially jumbled and disjointed; an unchoreographed mess of feedback, drunken, drug-induced sloppiness and outright rage.

After not even bothering with an encore, as most hadn't even noticed they'd finished, Robert reached the backstage area within minutes, snatching up the first bottle of hard liquor he could find and retreated to the van outside alone. He immediately locked all the doors and sat back with his head against the seat when suddenly, a wave of grief and panic overtook him. His mouth opened to scream, but only managed a long, anguished wail as tears began to stream down his face.

 _"Fucking... shit!"_ He blurted out between heavy, wrenching sobs that only continued relentlessly. He had no idea how much time had passed before his sobs began to fade and he slowly regained his breathing, rolling his head forward to wipe his burning eyes with one hand. He felt the familiar shape of the vodka bottle in his other hand and was relieved that he at least had this solution to help him get through his pathetic existence. It was the one thing he could depend on and Robert now felt a strange, sad comfort in that realization. There wasn't a single human being left in his life at this point who he could say the same about. They all wanted something for nothing. They all wanted to take from him whatever they could.

_Especially Simon._

His thoughts drifted once again back to that awful night, the bits he could remember and the pieces so told by Lol and he still could not fathom why Simon had even come to his rescue. He never so much as hinted as to what happened that night and Robert knew he would never divulge the unknown details. They were Simon's secrets now, never to be shared. And Robert felt his chest tightened at the thought of just how many secrets Simon actually did keep from him that would be locked away forever.

As he took a drink from the bottle, that was when it all came back to him and his thoughts sifted through those sordid memories, taking him back in time to the details that were previously a mystery. They were now imprinted on his mind and he swallowed hard as that same wave of panic began to swell.

It was _him_ , that same man beside Simon backstage, the same man in the pub - his tongue reaching out to lick Robert’s face. That low, menacing voice, that nameless face. He was the figure on top of Simon on the bed fucking him mercilessly after the drugs, with Robert standing before them witnessing all of it and at the time he couldn't bear it. He had to leave, but Simon quickly scrambled out after him, following close behind as Robert aimlessly roamed the streets, making random phone calls to Mary. But why? He couldn't remember exactly what he had said to her and at the same time he was sick just thinking back to how that nameless face violated his Simon on that very bed. It was an abomination and Robert vomited in the street at that vision that was forever burned onto his retina, the road soon rushing up to meet him as he finally collapsed from exhaustion.

But then he cringed at the realization as to just why Simon was in such a hurry to help and it hit him like a bolt and maybe it wasn’t at all as Robert had thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a violation after all. Simon’s devastating secret and what he traded for his addiction, his poison, was unstoppable, and Robert was foolish enough to misconstrue it.

He took a long drink from the bottle, hoping the vodka would soothe his now boiling blood. He could play this game any way Simon wanted, and he would now have no problem using that secret against him if he had to.


	13. A Prayer For Something Better

“Bill, he has to go.” Robert stated simply. His mind was made up.

“You can’t be serious?” Chris eyed Robert sitting across from him in the booth. He was clearly shocked.

Robert motioned to the server as she walked past, "Two more whiskeys, please.” He finished his drink and put the empty glass down on the edge of the table.

“He’s fucking done and I want him gone.” Robert never thought those words would exit his mouth and a horrible, sinking feeling began to creep in. It was almost smothering. He sniffed and looked down at his lunch that he merely picked at and couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything. It was only midday and his mind was already fogged from alcohol which was exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

The server quickly returned with the two whiskeys, placing one next to Robert and as she set the second glass next to Chris, Robert reached out, took it from her hand and slid it across the table placing it next to the other fresh glass, also in front of him.

Chris shifted in his seat and his frustration with Robert was clearly surfacing, "I don't understand what the problem is with you two." He stubbed out his cigarette.

There was a long silence as Robert sat back in his seat and crossed his arms with an air of defiance.

Chris glared at him in disbelief, "Robert, it's too late now. We're in the middle of a fucking tour here, Christ!"

"Don’t give me that. Find some other fucking wanker." Robert gazed up at the ceiling, shut his eyes for a moment and sighed impatiently, "Bill... He hasn’t contributed a fucking thing.” He refused to say his name out loud, he couldn’t, “He doesn’t turn up for sound checks. Nothing. And he barely makes it through the gigs without falling over or nodding off.”

Robert took a drink from his glass again, the distraction thankfully dissolving any opportunity for further eye contact with Chris, helping him remain in control. His voice was firm and unwavering, “You don’t turn up, you don’t get paid. It’s as simple as that.”

Chris looked down, sighed and shook his head as Robert swallowed another mouthful of booze. This many drinks in and the whiskey finally worked its magic, giving him that false bravado he so desperately needed, “And I’m not going to sit by anymore and just watch while he steals money from me to support his fucking habit."

Chris’ face suddenly snapped up and met Robert’s cold stare.

Robert continued to press on, "Whoring yourself out is one thing... and I couldn't care less what he chooses to do for a pastime..." He added flippantly, and in an instant he leaned forward in his seat, his voice lowering to almost a growl, " _But don't fucking steal from me_."

There it was. He finally said it and there was no logical explanation for the utter lie that spilled from his mouth, other than it felt like a small victory and a dismal one at that, as his conscience was now burning with guilt and his heart secretly ached. If it weren’t for the whiskey he would be in tears.

Why couldn't he just stop?

***        ***         ***

Robert's goal of escaping reality just enough for everything to not matter would finally be met; he knew just where to find Simon's rucksack and, of course, the large bag of cocaine he saw him stash earlier contained therein. Simon was so out of it after the show that he had to be escorted back to the hotel, although Robert didn't see why as he obviously fancied more mysterious, off-site accommodations these days. And in the shuffle to get him into a taxi, his bag had been left behind, to which one of the crew promised to return it safe and sound, much to Robert's delight.

He quietly slid the van door open and climbed inside, finally finding what he craved and quickly stuffed it in his pocket, a smug grin slowly spreading across his face. Simon certainly hadn't been very creative when considering a hiding place.

 _Stupid, fucking cunt._ He thought and left the van, slipping back out into the night.

***         ***         ***

He spent the rest of the evening in nearby clubs drowning himself in a concoction of yet more alcohol and cocaine, alone. Or rather, arriving at and leaving each establishment alone, with time spent in the interim in a drug-induced haze with vaguely familiar faces hovering and crowding, almost smothering him.

Eventually fueled by a stimulant-driven primal need, he sought out random women, presenting them with the promise of drugs which was the rest of Simon's stash of course, in exchange for a blowjob or a shag in the toilets.

It was during one particularly tawdry encounter that he nearly broke down in tears after struggling to climax. The image of Simon's body beneath him in the throes of ecstasy splashed across his mind again and again. Robert thought he was going mad and he could not expunge his insufferable nightmare no matter how hard he tried, agonizingly pounding away into the woman's body as she stood in front of him over the toilet with arms splayed and palms flat on the wall. He finally gave into his visions, his torment, and roughly pushed her head down and out of sight, eventually ejaculating into her with a mournful whimper.

He withdrew and stepped back, barely managing to balance himself upright. His body cold and trembling but his hair and shirt were soaked through with sweat as he zipped up his trousers and unceremoniously left her in the stall... with Simon's words replaying in his head, " _You're no better._ " and how sad but true it was, Robert thought.


	14. A Prayer For Something Better

After searching for his room key that had suddenly vanished from his pocket and not nearly coherent nor patient enough to deal with the hotel staff to obtain another, Robert found what he thought was Lol's room and proceeded to bang on the door.

"Lol!" Robert's voice was hoarse and his throat dry and raw. His shirt was still soaked through and his head was pounding, "Lol, open up." He wasn't even sure if Lol could hear him, but he couldn't manage to speak any louder as it felt like his head would literally crack open, "Fuck!" His hands searched his pockets again with no luck, "My key..." He uttered into the silence.

Robert leaned back against the wall beside the door until moments later he heard the sound of a lock sliding and a door opening.

He turned his head to find that it wasn't Lol at all and he felt as if the air had been knocked out of him as his eyes fell on Simon's still form, quietly staring at him through the crack in the door.

Robert finally let his gaze fall to the floor, his voice weary, "Oh..:" He cleared his throat, "guess I have the wrong room." He muttered. He could have kicked himself for making such a stupid mistake. Simon didn't move. What exactly did he expect him to say to that obvious and utterly pointless comment?

Robert glanced up, his gaze falling on Simon's hardened expression while his body blocked the entry into his room - Robert's room. He was so tired all he longed for was just darkness and sleep. Although, it seemed like that simple dream was no longer a possibility; he knew Simon well enough to realize his posture was a subtle warning to keep his distance.

Robert sighed hopelessly, resigned to the fact that he would be spending the night in the van, alone.

"Right…” He mumbled, defeated. He pulled himself away from the wall and began to trudge down the corridor until an unexpected, weak croak cut through the dead air, stopping Robert in his tracks.

"Robert."

He was in total shock at the mention of his name and managed to squeak out, "Huh?" in disbelief as he stood motionless, his body stiff. He was afraid to move.

"Y-you can come in."

He couldn't have heard that correctly and his eyes opened wide as he swung around to face him, bracing himself for the worst, but the door only opened wider and Simon retreated back into the darkness.

***         ***         ***

It was still dark when Robert stirred and shifted in the bed and he wasn't quite certain if he was still dreaming or if the sounds he heard were actually coming from the bed across from him as he could have sworn he was alone. But then his mind drifted back to hours earlier, remembering that he mistakenly stumbled upon the one person he knew he should avoid, being met with only a quiet stare from those dark eyes as he was reluctantly permitted inside.

Robert was quickly brought back into the present as a sigh and a stifled moan cut through the silence. He opened his eyes and peered across the room where he could now make out a body. Simon was lying on the bed, facing the wall and Robert could see his arm moving slightly and his bare back contracting and expanding with each sharp inhale and long, shaky exhale.

He froze as he strained to listen to those familiar, breathy sounds and that was when his eyes ticked down, noticing the sheets seductively snaking over the lower half of Simon's body, his ass now fully exposed.

His arousal stirred at that sight, and he imagined his hands cupping those firm buttocks as he pictured Simon's hand wrapping around his erection and it was the most difficult thing in the world to resist the urge to touch himself.

"Ohh..." Simon exhaled and then he heard it, his voice so soft, "Ro-Robert..." Followed by a gasp and after a few moments a low sigh, "Mmm..."

Robert held his breath at the mere mention of his name falling from Simon's lips. Did he hear correctly? Was he really pleasuring himself to him? He groaned at that thought as his erection sprung to life and without even realizing it, he suddenly and unexpectedly found himself standing over Simon's bed. He was so hard he couldn't stop himself from pulling off his shirt and shorts, his hand moving down involuntarily to stroke his own cock. His mind was so fogged by lust he didn't want to think about the consequences.

He needed to touch that naked body so badly and his hand left his erection, desperately reaching out, slowly traveling up Simon's side, and that smooth, warm skin under his palm made Robert groan until his hand finally trailed up to his shoulder, gently pulling him onto his back. He needed to see his face.

Simon's eyes opened and as he gazed up at Robert, his expression had softened from the cold hardness from before to a longing that almost made Robert melt. Simon abruptly stopped touching himself and took his hand away, and right then Robert was rewarded with that perfect sight, his erection in plain view, hard and glistening.

Simon took that same hand and reached out, his fingers alighting onto Robert's cock, gently sliding them down his length. Robert's entire body shuddered and his head dropped. He had to look away. He licked his lips as Simon continued to slide his fingers up and down.

"Simon..." It was an uncontrolled, lustful whisper.

Simon finally grasped it making Robert gasp and began to stroke. Robert could feel the heat building inside of him. The room was spinning as Simon's hand continued to stroke. He was so close and he could barely hold back when he suddenly took his hand and placed it over Simon's, stopping his movement, roughly moving back from his grip.

Robert's thoughts were reduced to nothing but contradiction and confusion as he fought to regain control, barely forming the word that in his head he knew he should say. It was killing him, all of this, "Simon, I-" He longed to say those words that his heart had felt for so long, but instead he could only manage a pained whimper, "No..."

Simon sat up slowly, his expression turning into one of confusion as one hand reached out, softly trailing from Robert's hip up to his heaving chest as Robert's eyes shut tight, his soft sobs escaping through clenched teeth. He couldn't stop shaking now and he knew it was Simon's touch that had reduced him to this state.

Robert opened his eyes only to meet Simon's warm, wanton gaze and those full lips, moist and slightly parted and it was a vision that was more than he could take. He had to have that mouth once again on his, despite what his mind had advised against and at last, his body reacted the only way it knew how and that was to give in, to let the feeling overtake him. He finally realized he had no power over what was lying in that bed below him; so openly willing and so perfect, that he found himself leaning over and dipping his head until their mouths finally slammed together, their hungry, desperate moans filling the air.

Their mouths remained joined together as Robert slid down onto the bed, his hands now on either side of Simon's head, almost on top of him as Simon swiftly pulled Robert down towards him, spreading his legs to allow Robert to settle in between, both of them moaning as Simon grinded his erection into Robert's.

But the sudden, loud pounding on the door jolted them out of their interlude and they both gasped from shock as they clung to each other, fighting to catch their breath.

"Simon!"

And there it was - that unmistakable raspy, growl of a voice.

"Simon!" The voice paused, and waited and after being met with no response it continued, clearly growing frustrated. "What the fuck?!!"

The door handle turned, but only halfway. Thankfully it was locked.

"Open up!!"

A sudden, sinking feeling washed over Robert as he slowly rose from Simon's body, his glare one of disbelief at this unexpected turn of events and his thoughts instantly reverted back to that horrible night with the two of them shamelessly laid out before him on the bed. He thought he would be sick.

Simon said nothing as Robert felt his body stiffen, as if he was trapped. His eyes closed tightly for a long moment then opened again, purposely trying to avoid Robert's look of utter revulsion, shifting his gaze quickly up to the ceiling.

 


	15. A Prayer For Something Better

The handle was tried again with no success and the voice behind the door dropped to even a lower growl, "Fucker! I'll be back, you little shit!" And the sound of a fist punching the door caused them both to jump.

Robert finally caught his breath and waited to hear footsteps disappear back down the corridor. He pulled back and silently studied Simon's face, the face he had dreamed of kissing for so long. The face of the same person he thought he knew so well, even thought he loved.

He thought he would vomit.

Robert's eyes burned with rage as his hand suddenly and harshly grasped that face and squeezed. Simon let out a surprised gasp at Robert's painful movement, his squirming only exacerbating his grip. Robert scowled at the now distorted features he held in his hand and abruptly slammed his lips onto Simon's, but this time it was different. This wasn't a kiss. As far as Robert was concerned, it was an assault and he bit down hard on Simon's bottom lip, drawing blood. Simon's response was only a wordless howl as his hands came up pulling at Robert's but it was pointless. Robert's fury was too strong of a storm for Simon to overtake.

Simon attempted to turn away as Robert loosened his clutch and he instantly felt the sting of Robert's hand meeting the side of his face, hard. Simon's eyes were wide with shock as Robert sat up and sneered, hitting him in the face again and Simon quickly raised his arms, blocking Robert's additional blows.

"Robert!... Robert, stop!!" Simon yelled, pleading.

Robert closed in quickly on top of Simon and grappled for both of his flailing arms, finally succeeding in pinning them over his head as he lay under Robert's weight, unsuccessfully struggling to free himself.

His voice was breathless but cold, almost chilling, "You are a little shit aren't you?!" Robert pressed down harder with each antagonizing movement from the captive body beneath him. His laugh was little more than a bitter chuckle as he opened his mouth again, "No." He corrected himself, "No...You're nothing but a fucking whore!"

The words emitted from his lips made his own stomach turn but he couldn't stop. His ferocity was now boiling over and dissolving away all rationality.

Simon turned away again, his eyes clenching shut, not uttering a word as Robert continued his attack.

"Should have known you would be useless!" Robert hissed through clenched teeth, adding, "...other than for a good fuck in the ass!" And much to his surprise his groin began to stir.

One hand ran roughly through Simon's hair, pulling it hard as Simon's mouth dropped open. Robert's face pressed up against his ear and with his hand still forcibly wrenching his hair he spoke again, his voice now growing louder and more exacting in Simon's ear, "Isn't that right? You like a good, hard fuck in the ass, don't you? You fucking whore!" Robert was seething and he began to pant as he felt Simon's lithe, naked body under him.

"Robert!! No!!" He was desperately pleading again and Robert reached down to Simon's cock, his hand pulling too roughly while Simon tried desperately to shift his hips away from Robert's unforgiving hand.

"Please!" Simon sobbed again.

"Please?!" Robert took in a deep, shaky breath, "Please what?!" Robert taunted cruelly, pulling on Simon's cock harder, causing him to wince in pain, "You want my cock up your ass don't you?! Don’t you???!!!"

He ferociously licked at Simon's neck as he took in his dizzying scent and finally bit at his shoulder, leaving small red marks where he broke the skin and he laughed again, almost maniacally, at the mere ridiculousness of it all. No matter what Robert did, how much he tried to push those thoughts from his mind, he could never resist Simon. He was just as hard as ever. It was a cruel, sadistic joke that he could never escape.

"No!!!" Simon's sobs were becoming weaker and his struggling slowly stopped as his erection was suddenly visible and was most certainly noticed by Robert. He shut his eyes and shamefully turned away.

Robert reached down at last, tugging furiously at Simon's cock again with rage still coursing through his veins and he almost wished he could rip it off, but instead he quickly began to stroke as Simon's body only shrunk away from Robert's touch.

"No!! Don’t!!" Simon whimpered as he pried Robert's unyielding hold from his erection.

Robert was on top of him now, his other hand shaking in a desperate attempt to spread Simon's legs, but was too winded and exhausted to succeed and Robert cried out in anger and frustration as he toppled down on to the bed beside him. Robert's face was buried in the mattress and after a few moments he could have sworn he heard a choked sob exit Simon's throat as Robert tried to catch his breath.

After what felt like ages, his composure began to return and as Robert quietly and cautiously sat up he saw at last, just what his wrath had caused. It was written all over Simon's face which was now swollen and bloodied, and stained with tears and shame. Robert was horrified and looked away for a long moment, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly as his eyes filled with tears, his lips trembling.

"Why?" It was little more than a shaking breath uttered aloud from Simon as he remained motionless still on his back, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Robert wanted to touch him so gently, to pull him close and say all the things he knew he should have said so long ago but now it was far too late. He knew the damage would be irreparable.

Simon slowly turned away on his side, pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his shivering body. His soft breathless sobs filled Robert's ears causing his tears to uncontrollably spill over and slide down his face as he gazed at that battered, yet still perfectly beautiful vision before him.

"Why?" There was a long pause, "When... when you know..." The soft, trembling voice struggled, "You know I love you."

Robert was stunned, and as Simon's words faded away into the darkness, he thought his heart would break.


	16. A Prayer For Something Better

Robert sat motionless on the bed, feeling a chill from the sweat that had began to dry on his body. Simon's soft sobs began to fade, most likely from exhaustion, and moments later the room fell silent. As he gazed at Simon's bruised face, he watched that expression of pain slowly fade into one of softness and calm as sleep began to take over.

He couldn't help but let out another sob, knowing that he was the one who had bestowed all of his unhappiness and outright rage on this beautiful creature that lay before him, now finally sleeping soundly and he had to turn away as a feeling of guilt and regret washed over his entire body in a drowning wave. His chest felt so heavy he could barely breathe and his eyes darted around the room that only seemed to be getting smaller, as if the walls were closing in on him.

He needed to escape.

He picked his clothes up from the floor and moved toward the bathroom and dressed alone, wondering what had even possessed him to feel the need to do that, as if it mattered. Nothing mattered now, only those startling words that he could not get out of his head. Those words that Simon had so painfully declared aloud at his most vulnerable moment and those words jolted Robert to his very core.

Every bit of his possessiveness and jealousy had been unleashed earlier. It was a cruelness he never imagined inflicting upon another human being and it terrified him. He shook his head in disbelief as another sob threatened to surface, but he cleared his throat and fought it back, averting his eyes from the mirror as he wiped away the tears and poured himself a glass of water at the sink. He knew he wasn't worthy of Simon's love. And it took every fiber of his being not to smash that reflection of the monster in the mirror in front of him.

***       ***       ***

The afternoon light had beamed harshly through the windows of the van and onto Robert’s face and he squinted his eyes and turned away.

There was the sound of a door opening and a head poked inside.

“Robert?” Chris asked quietly.

“Yeah?” Robert replied wearily and threw his arm over his eyes, shielding himself from the light and hopefully, from the rest of the world. He would give anything for all of this to be over.

“Is everything okay?”

Robert fumbled, looking for something, any excuse as to why he was lying there looking so pitiful, “Yeah, I-I just… I had to-“

“No worries.” Chris cut him off quickly, “Just wanted to know if you were still alive.”

Chris had dismissed him, and rightly so. Robert knew that Chris wasn’t interested in details; he didn’t want to know how twisted things had become. Surely, he must have heard the noises coming from his room the night before of Simon’s frantic cries, pleading for Robert to stop.

He was starting to feel nauseous.

He didn’t want to utter his name but he had to ask. He couldn’t possibly go back to the hotel and see him there now.

“Where’s… _Simon_?” As soon as that question left his lips a pain sliced through his chest that made him practically bolt upright. He winced and let out a small, strangled sound.

Chris only stared at him with an unreadable expression and Robert wasn’t certain if he didn’t notice his pained movement or if he just didn’t care to know, “Think he’s still in his room. Dunno, haven’t seen him yet.”

Robert’s weak sigh was almost loud enough for Chris to hear and he stopped himself as he sat up.

“What-what time is it?” He asked with his head down as he had no intention of meeting Chris’ eyes.

But Robert could feel his now probing gaze as he answered, “It’s nearly noon.” Chris paused for a moment, “Right. We've got to go soon.” And that was that. The door shut quickly and he was gone.

“Shit.” Robert hissed aloud to no one but himself. He had no choice; he had to go back now.

***          ***          ***

He unlocked the door with the key he took from the bedside table upon exiting the night before and held his breath as he gingerly turned the knob and peered inside, quickly scanning the room. The bed was unmade and empty and the water from the shower had just been turned off from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

This was his chance to gather up his things and disappear.

He quickly grabbed some shirts and pants from the floor and stuffed them into his bag, zipped it closed and hoisted it onto his shoulder when he heard the sound of a door creak open.

“Got what you wanted, then?” Simon’s voice was small, cold and detached.

Robert halted at the unexpected sound of his voice. He blinked and shut his eyes tightly, thankful that he wasn't facing him.

“N... Y-yes.” It was a strangled, defeated whisper. He was almost positive that question meant something altogether different than simply picking up his belongings and he flinched at that thought.

He heard rustling behind him and turned slowly to find Simon’s back to him, facing the bed wearing only a towel around his waist. His body was still damp and his hair wet from the shower and he began to untangle what looked like jeans and a t-shirt balled up on the bed.

“Simon, I—“

“ _Don’t."_  Simon coarsely cut Robert off and his arms dropped his clothes listlessly back onto the bed as he sighed, deflated and tired.

He couldn’t bear to hear that word coming from Simon’s mouth and couldn’t believe he was standing here like this. It was the last place in the world he thought he would be and the last thing in the world he thought he'd be faced with. His eyes were still on Simon's back, the back of his dearest friend. The same smooth, muscular back that glistened with sweat, expanding with every excited and labored breath as Robert thrust inside of him in the throes of passion. The back of the same man who proclaimed _those words_ even after all the abominable things that Robert did to him.

He wished everything had been different. He wished _he_ _himself_  had been different. Robert's pulse was racing and he couldn't breathe. He felt like he was going to suffocate.

“Please." Could Robert reveal what he truly felt in his heart? "I-"

“I said don't!” Simon whirled around, his face still red where Robert struck him and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over with dried blood where he bit him.

Robert’s eyes widened and he was appalled by the damage caused by his own hand. It was barbaric, he had behaved like some wild animal. Just the thought of that made him want to crawl out of his own body and he shrank back in disgust - at himself.

"Just leave me alone, Robert." Simon's voice wavered and he stomped forward, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

Simon's eyes were red and glassy, as if he'd already been crying and as he approached Robert he braced himself, but Simon only continued past him until he reached the bedside table. He unzipped his toiletry bag and removed another, smaller bag and Robert already knew just what was contained in that plastic pouch. Simon moved towards the bathroom quickly with one hand holding the towel around him, the other clutching the bag and Robert scrambled for him, lurching forward to pull him back by the arm causing the bag to fall from Simon's hand onto the floor.

"No! Don't!" It was almost a cry from Robert, begging him. He was still pulling him as Simon resisted and Robert's eyes darted from the bag on the floor to Simon's face, hoping for any sign that he would reconsider his plan, but Simon merely looked down at Robert's hand still on his arm and blinked. He pulled away roughly, shoving Robert's body back up against the door behind him and Robert hit the wood with a loud thump.

" _Don't you fucking touch me!_ " Simon's voice was tense, a strained growl and that made Robert's breath hitch and Simon moved in closer, their bodies nearly touching. Robert knew he had to compose himself. He had to say something. Now.

He leaned forward to move away, but Simon only forcefully shoved him back against the door again.

"Didn't you already get what you wanted?" Simon growled again, "What else do you want to take then,  _eh_?!" And his chest and shoulders appeared to inflate. He was in defense mode.

Suddenly, Simon dropped the towel and fearlessly yet rigidly pressed his body against Robert's, pinning him to the door and Robert gasped at the feeling of Simon's naked body on his once again and his arousal stirred making his stomach drop. This couldn't be happening now and he knew Simon felt it immediately.

"Yeah, that's right... Hard again, are we?" It was a cold, knowing taunt. Simon snorted, his smile brittle as he quickly backed away, and he bent over to pick up his bag.

Robert choked as he tried to speak again, "No!" And he lunged forward, trying unsuccessfully to pull the bag from Simon’s hands and his body away from the bathroom.

" _Fuck_ _off!"_ Simon yelled and pushed him backwards one last time hard and aggressively, the force nearly lifting Robert off his feet and his body hit the wall behind him with a solid thud. He slid down to the floor breathless, the wind knocked out of him.

As Simon resumed the trek to seek his temporary gratification, he looked over his shoulder and abruptly stopped, his eyes settling on Robert, but only for a moment. As Robert sat up against the wall and struggled to catch his breath, his gaze dared to meet Simon's and he was almost certain he saw a flash of sorrow and regret behind those lost, weary eyes.


	17. A Prayer For Something Better

“Are you getting up?” Lol’s voice had nudged Robert from his reverie or rather, nightmare.

"Yeah, soon.” Robert turned on his side in the bed and he suddenly remembered where he was and sadly, it wasn’t in his room with Simon.

"I’ll see you later.” Lol took one last, long look at Robert lying face down on the bed fully clothed with a notebook and pen by his side, and shook his head, “Maybe you should try a shower, Robert.” and without waiting for a reaction, he left the room.

Robert said nothing to Lol’s sarcastic, yet simple suggestion other than letting out a pained moan at the thought of undressing and making the monumental effort to actually bathe himself. How many days had it been? It wouldn’t change anything anyway would it? All of these trivial tasks…

He finally sat up with his back to the headboard and rubbed his eyes, but tears began to pool in them uncontrollably, once again.

He stared at the blank sheet of paper propped up on his legs in front of him with his hand poised to write as they rolled down his face, and he remembered Simon’s eyes in their last horrible moment together – so tired and defeated. There was nothing left. It was all too much. What could he possibly say? Robert knew that just a simple ‘sorry’ would never be enough.

He slowly began to scribble haphazardly on the paper as his sobs continued to vibrate through his body, his vision clouding up as he wrote.

_It's pointless to say I'm sorry now._

_Everything has changed. You've changed. I used to be able to laugh with you..._

_This is maddening. All of it. And I've tried to, but I just can't stop_ _it_.

_I've always lo-_

Robert’s hand shook and he quickly crossed out the last sentence. Those words were there in Robert's head and in his heart, waiting to be put on that paper. The same words he had longed to say for as long as he could remember, but he couldn't. He knew he was taking the easy way out. He was a coward and he knew what he had to do to end his miserable excuse of a life.

His head fell back.

“Fuck!” It was a breathless, irate cry as he tore the page from the notebook and crumpled it up in his shaking hand, and then, the smallest choking sound slipped from his lips as he closed his eyes and held the balled up piece of paper, his grip tightening around it, “I... I love you... I really do...”

Sadly, those words fell uselessly on no one's ears but his own.

***         ***         ***

It was hot in the club and the room was pulsing, almost spinning with music. Robert’s shirt was sticking to him with sweat as he leaned over and snorted the rest of the white powder on the tiny sink in front of him. And in an instant his mind felt sharp once again, if only temporarily.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, back into the club and scanned the crowded room his unexpected laugh was one of sarcasm and bitterness directed at no one but himself. It was the last place on earth he felt like being; under a rock in a shallow grave would have suited him fine, but the cocaine had summoned him. Lol’s head snapped quickly in Robert’s direction at his sudden outburst, a show of concern playing across Lol’s face – or was it embarrassment? _Fuck him_ , Robert thought.  _Fucking cunts… Everyone_...

He knew what he came here for and he needed more to silence his own pathetic existence once and for all.

“Lol, where’s Gary?” He knew Gary would have more of what he needed, much more.

“He’s downstairs I think… Why?” Lol’s blank look only confirmed his utter stupidity to Robert.

 _Why the fuck do you think? Stupid tosser,_ Robert thought. And it took every ounce of self control to not hit him square in the face, but Robert quickly dismissed him. He needed to reconsider the direction of his cruelty and Lol was the least of his worries.

"Never fucking mind." Robert growled, then downed the rest of his vodka and headed for the stairs.

***          ***          ***

He opened the door to the restroom and entered the first empty stall. After locking it behind him, he removed the small plastic baggy from his pants pocket, seriously intent on dumping the entire contents on top of the toilet tank and snorting it in one go, when he suddenly heard the sounds of rustling and heavy breathing in one of the stalls at the end of the row.

A muffled moan and then a thud as if someone was being pushed into a wall, “Oh… Simon…” A voice whispered breathlessly and there were more noises of what sounded like two people kissing.

"Yes... Suck me.. _.”_ Robert's gut turned at that familiar, rough growl of a voice. It was that same, nameless face that had once again crept back into the periphery of his pitiful reality.

Simon's weak, tired protest only confirmed Robert's assumption, "No... I can't. No."

"Do it. _Now_." The voice ordered him.

Robert caught his breath and steadied himself as a wave of sour, bitter sickness had suddenly overcome him. As the nausea quickly ebbed away, his blood began to boil at hearing that voice _commanding_  Simon. It was all Robert could take and his anger began to surface as his throat tightened and a red haze overtook his vision.

 _"Fuck!!!”_ He shouted and his shrill cry bounced off the walls of the dreary, tiled room. He had to get out or he would end up killing them both. He turned and exited the stall quickly, purposely kicking a metal trash can loudly over on its side and forcefully into the wall as he bolted out of the room. There would be no mistake that he was there, and that he heard everything.

***           ***           ***

He slumped against the bar, trying to focus his heavy eyes and ordered another round. Robert had lost count of just how many he'd had already quite some time ago as he waited for any sign of Simon. But what was it that he wanted to say so cleverly once he did make an appearance? He hadn't a clue, but felt his blood still boiling. He would get this night over with in his own way soon enough.

A small crowd was growing and becoming more unruly and seemed to converge to the far corner of the bar. Robert lifted his heavy gaze and looked over at the ruckus as a familiar shape moved in and out of view, catching his eye.

From out of nowhere Lol appeared, “Robert…"

" _What?!! Christ!"_ He was in no mood. He just wanted be left alone to get even more annihilated but the barman had also disappeared, rushing over to the source of the noise.

"I think it’s Simon... over there." Lol's eyes moved toward the direction of the crowd. "Dunno what’s going on. Maybe... maybe we should get security.” Lol’s expression was worried.

Robert attempted to straighten up and he had to _laugh_ at that grave look. Of course _now_ he just had to go over and see what was happening. He had waited long enough for his nagging cruelty to be unleashed on its rightful target, after all.

He strolled unsteadily over to the crowd which was by now closing in on Simon and it was Gary’s voice that he heard in the midst of the scuffle, “Don’t you fucking touch him!”

One of the barmen had Simon by the arm, pulling him back roughly. Simon broke free and whirled around, only to be met by Robert’s smug glare.

"What’s the matter now?!” Robert asked patronizingly as if he were speaking to a child. His question was directed at Simon, but the barman interjected.

"He didn’t pay for his drinks!” He sniffed, pointing at Simon.

Simon's eyes were wild and welling up with tears as his gaze locked on to Robert’s. He was so drunk and so very stoned that this particular scenario couldn't be more perfect. Robert couldn't have been more pleased.

“I-I paid for mine! He didn’t pay for his!” Simon shouted, slurring and pointing at Robert. It was a cry of confusion and desperation.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about, Simon??!!” Robert laughed bitterly as he moved away from the bar, “Are you fucking strung out again?” He paused, and his icy, blue stare cut straight through him. He could see his body trembling, “Just how do you know what I’ve paid or haven’t paid for?!” And he hissed out his name.

"I-I…” Simon’s voice cracked.

“Well,” Robert continued, glowering, his voice rising, “I’m certainly not going to pay for your fucking drinks…” He approached him slowly and then abruptly stopped, inches away from Simon’s face. He could feel Simon’s breathing becoming more rapid and his eyes were now dark slits.

"If you can't pay your bill, why don’t you do what you normally do for your other poison and suck his cock?” Robert’s eyes fell on Simon’s mouth and he impulsively licked his own lips. He motioned in the direction of the barman and made sure that comment was loud enough for not only the barman, but for everyone else gathered around to hear and he succeeded as heads turned and laughter was apparent, “I’m sure that would settle your bill.” Robert unexpectedly felt his groin stir, although that was not what he intended at all.

“Or, why don’t you just let him fuck you in—“

The hard knock of a fist meeting the side of his face sent Robert reeling back, his body slamming into the bar behind him, and a sharp pain where his back had hit on impact caused him to double over.

Robert’s head slowly rose and his now enraged eyes met Simon’s and just for a moment Simon let down his guard; a flash of hesitation and fear showing on his face. And at that unexpected opportunity, Robert lunged forward, his fist hitting Simon in the face and as Simon’s eyes widened in panic, his body hit the floor with a thud.

“No!—“ Simon cried and tried to sit up to knock Robert back again, but it was useless and as Robert’s rage seized him he dove on top of Simon, landing punch after punch onto his face and head as Simon shouted, writhing, arms flailing, returning those punches onto Robert’s chest, trying to free himself from Robert’s weight pinning him to the floor.

“You fucking, little _shit!!_ ” Robert’s fists were still hitting that once soft, warm skin, now only appearing bruised and grotesque to Robert, “You... _Fucking!!..._ " It was as if he was possessed, nearly screaming, " _Fucking_... _Kill you!!_ ” He couldn't stop pummeling. He wanted to turn that body below him into a bloodied pulp. He wanted to knock the last breath of life out of him until suddenly, he felt himself being hoisted up harshly under his arms with Simon’s body still squirming beneath him. He couldn’t see anything but that same blinding, red haze and could only hear a buzzing that resonated through his head as his body was dragged away and dumped roughly in a heap on his knees in the corner.

Robert’s eyes now filled with tears as he attempted to catch his breath, groping his way up the wall to stand and by this time, the crowd was growing hungry for more carnage.

There were voices shouting, faces flashing before Robert’s but it was as if he was removed from everything now. It was as if he was in a vacuum and he couldn’t make sense of anything. His head and back were throbbing, his chest burned where Simon laid into him and his fists were bloodied and cut from the attack.

His chest continued to heave for breath and it was then that he suddenly thought of his note; the note that came nowhere near to even scratching the surface of how Robert really felt. The note that he had written earlier and after hesitating for what felt like hours, had finally slid the rumpled paper under Simon’s door, now realizing it was only a lame attempt at trying to justify his own wretchedness. But he knew in his heart that nothing would ever change, no matter how he felt and there was no turning things back to what they once were. This was the last straw and it was done. He shut his eyes tight and let out a loud, woeful moan, not caring if the entire club heard his cry.

When at last his legs began to move him forward, shuffling listlessly, step by agonizing step further away from Simon and toward the exit, the voices sounded again from behind him calling his name but he had no intention of responding.

It was finally over. It had to be.

 

****More to come of the aftermath soon****


	18. A Prayer For Something Better

It was almost as if his body was being pulled apart in a dozen different directions at once but it had to be this way. He constantly needed to have so many thoughts crammed in his head that there could be no time, nor room in his mind for  _him_. He hadn't even uttered his name once after that dreadful night so long ago.

His obsession had quickly shifted to his all-consuming schedule and questionable, nomadic lifestyle, leaving his mental and physical state in an even worse condition than it was the year before. He was now an empty shell, merely existing in a daze of drink and drugs, coming and going from studio to studio, dividing his time between The Cure, The Banshees, his side project with Severin and his ever diminishing and hazy personal life which these days consisted mainly of a steady diet of illicit drugs, alcohol and passing out on Severin's floor in his flat.

He was exhausted from another all night recording session and he could barely stand as he slid into the back seat of the taxi with Chris by his side.  
  
"Robert?" Chris looked over, his worried eyes studying Robert's pallor, "You know, there's only a finite number of records you can make this way." He wasn’t just speaking from a business perspective, he was also speaking from a concerned friend’s perspective which was something Robert wasn’t keen on heeding these days.  
  
After a lengthy silence there was only a weak, quiet response, "I don't care." It was all he knew how to say. He didn't have the strength for anything more and he turned his head and let his gaze fix on the traffic outside.  
  
"Well, you should care."  
  
Robert wasn't even listening anymore. He was just so tired that Chris' words didn't even make sense. At that point, Robert only heard jumbled sounds coming from his mouth in the background.  
  
It was only when Robert chuckled aloud softly that the sounds from Chris ceased and an awkward silence filled the car as Robert's thoughts at last found a moment to re-enter his mind. He failed so badly at everything; the music, the tour, Mary, and most of all his best friend and his lover... Although, were they really ever lovers? Robert didn't know what to call their relationship other than a huge mistake, an utter regret. But why did it still plague him so? And lastly, he hadn't even succeeded in his quest to end his own miserable existence, but he knew the reason for that. He just wasn't trying hard enough.  
  
"Pull over." He stated plainly, his words cutting through the thick silence. He had to stop thinking.  
  
Chris' eyes bored into him as Robert continued to stare out the window. The taxi made it's way over to the curb and abruptly stopped alongside the shops and pubs lining the street and Robert quickly scrambled for the handle and opened the door. He was now intent on entering the closest drinking establishment to do just that, alone.

"Robert..."

"Bill, don't. Really." Robert's eyes, in a perpetual state of redness and puffiness, finally met Chris' and his dull, empty stare told Chris everything; he was merely hanging on, just barely coping with his loss.  
  
***          ***          ***  
  
From the minute the tour had abruptly stopped and everyone flew back home, Robert unexpectedly rang Chris and requested that he call the others back for what seemed like another round of punishment, but the group as it was then had to at least finish what was left of the tour and they miraculously did, which was never without the violence that had quickly wormed it’s way even deeper still. It had become contagious, extending well beyond just Robert and Simon until finally it was the ultimate end to everything and The Cure had effectively dissolved away.  
  
Soon after, Robert found himself faced with a bleak uncertainty ahead but it no longer mattered, as he would have been perfectly content to sit idle for the rest of his life. Total abandonment had become his mindset, and he welcomed it all too quickly.  
  
Although he did manage a reconciliation of sorts with Mary, or rather,  _she_  had swayed him back into some normalcy for a time, the two headed off to Wales where they spent the better part of a month in a tent in total isolation. Robert had longed to disappear and clear his head, or so he thought. It was a short-lived endeavor, however, as it was obviously not strong enough of a distraction to pull him back from his depths; from his doomed relationship with his now estranged best friend and lover.  
  
Even during lovemaking with her, those damning thoughts of his affliction would sometimes creep back into his mind; his smell and the feel of his body beneath him as he surrendered himself totally to Robert… He was still so lost in those images and he fought to pull himself back every time but it was futile. Even worse, he would just manage to catch himself before moaning out the wrong name as he thrust inside her one last time, his orgasm washing over him.  
  
He couldn’t escape from it all and the solitude now only had an adverse effect, making it more unbearable. The only solution to silencing those thoughts was to once again resume his path of total oblivion and overload until they gradually faded from memory. He needed for everything to start up and collapse once again and in the months that followed, it was the only thing he wasn't a failure at doing.  
  
***          ***          ***  
  
He felt warn breath on his ear and then a slurred voice, “…alright Robert?”  
  
Steve’s face was then directly in front of Robert’s as he knelt down next to him clumsily.  
  
Robert was on Steve’s floor again, lying on his side as he helplessly tried pulling his jacket over him, hands uselessly and weakly clutching at the fabric.  
  
“Hmm?” It was a drug-induced attempt at a reply and Robert felt as if the room were spinning.   
  
“Do you need …” A short pause, “…to go to hospital?” Steve wasn’t so steady himself as he leaned even closer to Robert’s face and by now, Robert could smell the whiskey on his breath.  
  
_Hospital? Why?_ Robert thought.  
  
“D-don’t… thin so.” His mouth was dry and he could barely form words much less a coherent thought. He tried to raise his head from the floor and the wave suddenly hit him - he was going to be sick...Again.  
  
“N- God!” He moaned and tried to move his body, but with every motion the urge to vomit overwhelmed him even more. He had to try to get up, to at least make it to the toilet in time.  
  
Steve was pulling his arms, trying in drunken desperation to help Robert stand or at least kneel to crawl; but he was in no shape to try and drag him across the floor.  
  
The short stumble to the bathroom was an effort of monumental proportion and at that point Robert’s arms seemed like they were the only things he could feel as his legs were almost useless. He managed to prop himself up and leaned over, swaying only to retch again and again in the sink below him until nothing was left, his stomach literally feeling like it had been turned inside out. And with one last painful, involuntary dry heave his vision quickly blurred and his head buzzed with the sound of static as his legs gave way and his head met the edge of the porcelain sink with a smack, his body falling on the floor in a lifeless heap.  
  
***         ***          ***  
  
Robert tried to move his arm but he could feel almost a tug back and a slight pain as if something was embedded in the top of his hand. He managed to crack open his swollen eyes and look down at the IV protruding from it.  
  
_Fucking lovely_ , he thought bitterly.  
  
His head immediately began to pound and he shut his eyes tightly and his other hand reached up to meet the source of the pain; a large, painful lump on the side of his head that had been bandaged.  
  
Just then a soft, female voice sounded, startling him. It was Mary sitting beside him.  
  
“Robert?”  
  
“Hmff…” It was the smallest sound and all he could muster up right then. He felt like he had been run over by a locomotive.  
  
“D-do you know where you are?” Her voice was soft and almost soothing, but there was still an edge of genuine concern.  
  
There was no question as to where he was; the IV, antiseptic mixed with the faint smell of urine. It was all too nauseating.  
  
“Y-yes.”  
  
“Good.” She paused as if to collect her thoughts on what to say next, but Robert only heard her shift in her chair.  
  
“What… happened?” He asked weakly. He was afraid to actually hear an answer as he was already quite certain of what it had to do with, at the very least.  
  
“You fell… in… in a bathroom and hit your head. You were knocked unconscious. Steve called the ambulance. You were also very dehydrated.” She paused and continued on quietly, “From the excessive vomiting I suppose.”  
  
That much he figured since he vomited repeatedly from various concoctions, the main culprit being the mushrooms he scored from Andy, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had food or any beverage other than alcohol for days.  
  
He slowly opened his mouth to speak and before he realized, “S-Simon?”  _That name_ had unwittingly squeaked out and he watched in horror as Mary’s expression turned from one of concern and warmth to resentment and confusion. He cringed.  
  
“Robert, I don’t know what’s happening… to you...” Her voice was wavering, becoming increasingly exasperated. “I just wish you would stop. I-I just don’t know what to do.” She paused and took in a long breath, “What more can I possibly do? I love you. You know I do, but… I just can’t take this.”   
  
She sniffed and choked and Robert could hear that her soft sobs were just below the surface but she fought them off in order to continue, “I don’t want this anymore.”   
  
And with that final admission, she slowly stood and took another deep breath and Robert could feel her eyes on him as she loomed over him. He felt pathetic. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t let her know how awful and heartbroken he felt. He couldn’t let her know that this was destroying him and had already destroyed what he and Mary had, but he couldn’t stop it.  
  
Tears started to slide down his face and he was powerless against them, “I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to-please…” he sputtered helplessly. He had nothing else to offer her now.  
  
Mary’s hand slowly reached down to Robert’s matted hair and smoothed it away softly from his bandage.  
  
“I-I just can’t…” She said in between soft sobs.  
  
And so quietly, just like that she was gone...


	19. A Prayer For Something Better

There was no one left in his life to witness, nor tolerate his continuous self-loathing and abuse. He now had no choice but to concentrate on making the new album, determined to immerse himself in it while barely managing to keep up with the pace of his commitments with The Banshees - a decision that would soon prove detrimental to his mental and physical welfare.

The atmosphere in the studio was just as manic as the previous debacle, but in a different way, under different circumstances. His loss was clearly confessed in the words and music and this time, there was no one to rein him in when things got too much; when he got caught up too deeply in his thoughts which only led to more self-indulgent behavior and as such, the vicious cycle only continued.

To add yet more fuel to his simmering misery, often he would overhear certain hushed conversations and although his name was never mentioned by those around him, Robert knew the habits and ways of his once closest friend, enough to know exactly who it was the others were speaking of in such fragmented, secret terms. When he heard that Simon had formed his own group and had been living at the Fiction office following splitting up with Carol, Robert couldn’t help but think how similar their situations had become and he wondered if Simon found his absence just as torturous. He wondered if he too, was merely existing, plodding along, drowning his thoughts in waves of denial and despair. He had shamefully hoped that was the case; that Simon needed Robert as much as Robert needed him, perhaps even more.

His anguished whisper professing his love to Robert so long ago still haunted him constantly, as did the guilt over his inexcusable actions leading up to that admission and their last, horrible moments together with Robert beating him to a pulp in an unstoppable, jealous rage.

He had so many times put a pen to paper, writing down his apology and what he should have admitted to so long ago. He must have started at least a dozen notes and letters, all aborted midway through. He couldn’t bring himself to finish any of them as that would only mean he would have to take that final step of actually sending them, ultimately bearing his very soul. He wished he could have been brave enough to share his confession and his thoughts would often lead to fantasizing about sending Simon such a letter. He would picture him cautiously opening the envelope, immediately recognizing Robert’s distinct, clumsily written words as he stood before a window in the dim light of sunset, the aura of smoke from his cigarette curling around him as he read Robert's anguished words so intently.

Even in sleep Simon still managed to creep into Robert's subconscious. He would still dream about him and about the two of them together in the throes of passion. Many times he would wake in the middle of the night alone, bathed in sweat, his heart beating furiously and with a hard-on so hot and throbbing it took merely a few strokes to finish himself off - only to curse shamefully aloud in anger for succumbing to his forbidden pleasure just moments after he came in his hand.

All of it ate away at him, and sadly, he knew that all of it was to be his punishment, convinced he deserved nothing less.

***         ***         ***

Robert pushed the door open and entered the pub alone. After working in the studio for the better part of the day and into the evening, the others had finally gone home, leaving Robert to his own devices. This however, only resulted in total drunkenness and his evening had only just commenced. There was no stopping him now and not surprising, he had every intention of taking his inebriation even further.

Fools Dance had already started to play and if it weren’t for the alcohol to gradually melt away his inhibitions he would have never set foot in the same establishment as Simon, but when he heard they were playing out nearby it was irresistible. He had absolutely no interest in their music and had never even ventured to listen to any of it, he only longed to steal a glance of his estranged best friend after all this time, even if he knew it would only be from a distance.

As he lurked in one of the dark corners near the back exit, hoping not to have his presence known, he wasn’t quite prepared for what he saw emerge from the out of the darkness. He took in a sharp breath as his eyes studied him and it was, of course, Simon. His body was still lithe as he held his bass, moving so fluidly on stage and as Robert’s eyes squinted to get a clearer picture of him through the smoke his heart immediately sank. There was such a sharp contrast in his makeup and attire from before and to Robert, it had done nothing but cheapen him. It was almost as if his words uttered so cruelly in Simon’s ear so long ago, ‘… nothing but a _whore_ …’ were damning him to that very fate.

His face had changed as well. His expression had now seemed firmly set with a hardness that Robert had never seen and those once warm, inviting eyes had a cold listlessness to them. It was alarming and it was all the confirmation he needed and now realized that maybe Simon’s demons had finally gotten the better of him. Suddenly, instead of feeling lust at that captivating image, he felt an indescribable sadness for this now tragic creature. The same sadness he felt that terrible night in the hotel room ages ago, when Simon’s dark secret had so unexpectedly revealed itself to Robert.

He had no idea how much time had passed as the lights came up, jarring him out of his drunken reverie and by now, the band’s set was over and they had all left the stage. He hastily guzzled down his drink and that desolate feeling began to creep over his body and ooze into his mind. It was enough of a familiar feeling that told him his moment of coping with the current situation was reaching its limit. It was time to rid that stranger he saw on stage from his head and heart for as long as possible. Luckily, he knew how to go about doing just that as there would surely be more than enough booze and illicit stimulants waiting for him elsewhere.


	20. A Prayer For Something Better

It was no easy task to maneuver up the narrow staircase in total darkness and of course, completely drunk and with a head full of cocaine. He had just left a party or rather, an evening of debauchery hosted by none other than his old flat mate, Steve. Robert finally had all the chemicals he could take for one evening and decided it best to try and sleep, or more likely, pass out.

These days he had opted for the comfort of his old room in his childhood home as it was closer to the studio, cheaper, less dangerous and much less crowded then Robert’s usual space on Steve’s floor or sofa which, would more often than not, end up being occupied by other guests. However, tonight hailing a taxi from London to Crawley which was almost an hour away, simply did not appeal. And so he quickly decided without stopping to think, that the Fiction office would be his home away from home until tomorrow.

He reached the top of the staircase, inserted the key and opened the door to the office and was instantly blinded by a light that glared harshly from the lamp in the corner. He stood in the doorway and his hands gripped the molding for a moment to steady himself as he glanced around the room through heavily lidded eyes. Thankfully, there seemed to be no one else there and as he shuffled across the floor to turn off the assaulting brightness, he heard movement coming from the other room; the distinct sound of a refrigerator door slamming shut and the hiss of a bottle being opened. Robert snapped his head quickly in the direction of the noise and as a result, the room began to spin. He outstretched his arm and his hand quickly grappled for the stem of the floor lamp for balance.

 _Fucking_ _Christ_ , he thought dismally. He mistakenly assumed he was alone and had the entire floor to himself, at least until tomorrow afternoon. But now he wasn't so sure and at this point, he was in no condition to confront anyone. He just wanted whoever it was to disappear so he could achieve a peaceful end to his evening of excess.

He moved towards the hall as competently as his drunken legs would carry him and as he rounded the corner that led into the small kitchen, he saw a figure leaning up against the refrigerator with his back to the doorway. Robert instantly recognized the curvature of that back facing him and almost gasped, his feet were now frozen in place as he continued to take in the vision before him: those long legs, that perfect ass, head tilting back to accommodate a mouthful of beer from the bottle... Robert couldn't help but fleetingly picture that warm, wet mouth touching the bottle - those full lips parting just enough to take in another sip of liquid... He shivered at that thought, wishing that bottle was his cock and it didn't take long for a familiar heat to quickly spread down to his groin.

His heart literally felt as if it jumped into his throat and he couldn't breathe. No. He _couldn't_ be thinking those thoughts now. It was even more appalling that it finally dawned on him that this was the last room in the world in which he should be standing.

And before he could stop himself he foolishly blurted out, “What...what’re you doing here?”

The glass bottle promptly slipped from Simon’s hand at the unexpected sound of Robert’s voice and shattered on the tile floor at his feet. He whirled around, startled, and his glassy, bloodshot eyes widened with bewilderment at the sight of him standing in the doorway.

He opened his mouth, but only a small sound emerged, “Huh?”

They were both taken aback; stunned that they now suddenly faced each other in the same room, alone.

Robert’s body began to sway as he could no longer stand unassisted and he fell back limply against the wall behind him, “I-…” His voice trailed off. He could say nothing more.

“Wh-why are you here?” Simon was still looking at him, that same glazed bewilderment in his eyes, though his question was guarded, quiet.

Robert finally slurred out, “I-I didn’t know… you were here…”

But he had known for months that Simon had been holed up here, he was just too out of his head to remember. Or maybe it was just another convenient omission from his memory like many things he had chosen to dismiss lately.

"Shit..." Robert muttered, closed his eyes tight and let his head fall back, hitting the wall behind him hard. He felt done in, hopeless, and could barely remain upright as he peeled himself away from the wall. He had to leave. But just where would he go?

He took a step and without warning his legs gave out from under him and he hit the cold, hard floor on his hands and knees.

“ _Fuck!”_ He was mortified at his own frustrated whine, but he didn’t have a choice, he was no longer in control; the Quaalude he’d all but forgotten about taking at Steve’s was now in full effect. He feebly slid himself forward towards the door to make his escape and hadn’t even realized he’d been crying until the wetness from his own tears dripped onto the back of his hands and onto the tile floor beneath him.

He sobbed loudly, "Shit!" and was now pleading to himself. He just wanted to be left alone on the ground.. _.to die_.  He suddenly stopped, too terrified to move and his gaze remained glued to the floor with his eyes stinging and his sight blurred with tears. He couldn't look up at Simon standing over him. He didn't know what would happen if he did.

“Robert…” Simon pulled at his arms, trying to hoist his body up but it was no use.

“No!” His loud sobs quickly turned into a desperate bellow, _“Don’t!"_

He floundered helplessly, trying to free himself from Simon’s grip. The both of them scuffling with each other pointlessly until Robert finally pulled at him and Simon’s body gracelessly flopped down to the floor beside him. The drugs and alcohol were now all too evident in their movements and they were both breathless and dazed.

Robert rolled over on his side still out of breath, astonished that Simon hadn’t hit him. He concluded that surely, he would come to his senses at any moment and exact his revenge and shamefully, Robert braced himself for that beating, knowing all too well it was justified. But instead, Simon remained on the floor slumped against the wall with legs outstretched, clearly spent from their brief struggle. Robert sucked in a long breath and tried to calm himself, but his body immediately tensed and he couldn't stop his own morbid thoughts from hijacking his mind. He was filled with dread at the possibility that this night would have the same tragic outcome as their last brutal moments together; the end of it all.

His gaze shot up to Simon’s face and when their eyes met Robert flinched, expecting to see anger, rage, even hatred, and much to Robert's surprise his expression was almost a quiet reluctance, as if he was waiting for Robert to say something… _Do_ something.

Robert was terrified and his drunken, drug-addled mind unsuccessfully searched for words that would make sense, words that would make everything right again, but could only articulate an uncertain whisper of the person's name he both desired and feared, "Simon?...” and before his very eyes his own hand instinctively reached out towards Simon, his fingers finding an outstretched leg where they settled gently, just barely touching his thigh.

Those dark eyes were unreadable in the silence and they merely stared down at Robert's hand and in that long, quiet moment time seemed to stop. It wasn't until Simon's thin, muscular leg slowly slid aside that Robert was suddenly nudged from his foggy rapture back into a cold, harsh reality and his shaking hand quickly withdrew, darting back in reaction to Simon's subtle aversion.

 _So fucking stupid_ , he immediately thought of himself. _Why couldn't anything ever go right?_ It was pointless, and his heart sank as tears of regret and frustration quickly began to burn at the corners of his tightly clenched eyes.

No sooner than Robert had turned away he heard a rustling and in an instant, much to his shock, his former lover quickly straddled his supine body and was poised over him on his knees. They were now inches apart and Simon dared to lean over even closer, his arms slowly descending until his palms landed on the floor on either side of Robert's head, his eyes glazed and heavy, purposefully searching Robert's face, silently questioning.

Robert recoiled confused, not knowing what this moment was, and the proximity of Simon's body like this was so close it was dizzying. As he gazed up at that flushed face, his quick, warm breath softly escaping through trembling, slightly parted lips, Robert realized just how much he missed kissing them, missed having them make their way down his body, slowly stopping just before he took Robert's aching hardness into his mouth...

He couldn't help but let out a long, breathy sigh at that thought and their eyes immediately locked on each other's, both knowing just what they desired after all this time. And the titillating, utter delirium of feeling trapped, submissive beneath this sensual creature, made Robert's body burn. He was overwhelmed. Before he realized it his own hands reached up and grabbed at Simon's shoulders, roughly pulling him down onto his body, their mouths meeting with urgency. Robert's heart was pounding and he broke away uttering a sob of disbelief and incomprehensible, slurred bits of words.

Simon's mouth turned and caught Robert's again and when he felt a tongue brush his lips for entry he complied, helpless against that lush silkiness, and Robert groaned loudly in his mouth, desperately, clumsily, pulling at his shirt, clinging to him. He couldn't let him go. His arousal was unstoppable and he wrapped his arms around him even tighter as they continued their hungry kiss, almost devouring, eager to explore each other once again...

And gradually, it was becoming all faded and blurred.

Robert's eyes struggled to remain open and he wrenched his mouth away breathless, "S-Sim-...Fuck..." He sucked in a shallow breath, a desperate attempt, but it was no use. He felt like he was slipping away from the world. He was quickly sliding into an abyss beyond his control and the world around him faded away into a grainy, silent darkness.

The Quaalude had finally succeeded in its task… at the worst possible moment.

 


	21. A Prayer For Something Better

He couldn't remember how he had ended up here. But was he really actually here? This all felt like a dream.

His breathing had become more rapid and that grainy texture was awash over every object his swollen, burning eyes had taken in. Sweat was dripping yet he was cold. Strands of hair were matted down, pressed to his forehead and his chest was heaving with each ragged, laboring breath.

When he attempted to shift, warm hands were instantly on his back making him gasp and his body jerk. Those same hands slowly began moving upwards, pressing, feeling his bare skin. Robert was trembling, his arms, wobbly as he continued to hold his body up and as he looked down, he found himself on his hands and knees, naked on cushions of what he could only guess was the Fiction office sofa.

Unexpectedly, he felt the weight of a body behind him, leaning on top of him and then a mouth fluttering around his ear. He could feel quick shaking breath moistening his skin, “Robert… Please.” And it was then that he recognized that low, quiet voice.

Simon breathed in his ear again, licking it and the sensation sent tremors through Robert’s body as he attempted to feebly balance himself and he managed to reach around behind him. His hand found a slender hip and as it slid down further, his fingers just touched the tip of Simon’s fully erect cock up against his ass.

Simon groaned and a fervent whisper left his lips, “Fuck. Please…” He pleaded.

Robert let out a weak, shivering moan as Simon quietly uttered those words in desperation. He was prodding Robert’s opening and seconds later he felt Simon’s cock slide in roughly and then abruptly stop as he pushed all the way in meeting Robert’s body. Surprisingly, there was no pain like he'd thought, although it was all just a dream anyway... He never thought it could be this vivid, this real. No dream had ever felt this good. And now every sound was buzzing and a haze blanketed all he could see before him. This was too incredible to be real.

“Oh, Robert-you…” It was strained whimper and Simon pulled out slowly, then back in with a grunt toppling Robert onto the cushions.

His face was in the sofa now, he couldn't hold himself up as Simon thrust again, slamming into him with a loud moan. He reached down and gripped Robert’s body angling his hips up, exaggerating each thrust, so deep and hard and slow. His breathy, lustful grunts kept time with each movement and Robert became even more aroused at those sounds. He was helpless now.

Simon’s hands were all over him, sliding on his sweat soaked back and shoulders, so desperately feeling as he continued to plunge into him. The sound and feel of their bodies slamming together, his cock sliding in and out so hard, so completely, almost drove Robert over the edge and he moaned aloud into the sofa; his own cock aching to be touched. He was in such blissful agony that he had to cry out. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Nhh- Ohh!…” Robert mumbled and turned his face from out of the cushions. His heart was racing, his head a jumbled mess of sounds and his breath was no more than short, sharp bursts. He finally let out a breathless anguished cry only encouraging Simon and he began to move faster, his arm reaching down, groping awkwardly, feeling for Robert’s cock. When his hand did finally reach it, Robert gasped and he began to stroke, pulling up and back, trying to keep time with his now almost frantic, desperate thrusts. Simon’s hand stroking him to ecstasy as he fucked him from behind was all he could take and Robert knew he wouldn’t last. He never could when it came to Simon, and he was already there…

“Fuck, Simon... _Oh, fuck!”_ And Robert came so hard, so fast, sobbing as he spurted into Simon’s hand and onto the cushions beneath him, his body tensing and trembling as he shot out again.

Simon was still over him, his breathless groans becoming louder and he was murmuring now, almost whimpering, clenching his teeth to hold back, but it was futile attempt. His thrusts were erratic until he hesitated, shaking and panting. Slamming into him one last time with such force, it almost sent Robert over the arm of the sofa. And at that moment, Simon clutched at Robert's body and a long, ragged cry escaped his throat as he came inside of him at last.

 ***      ***      ***

"I love you." It was his own hoarse whisper, uttered uncontrollably aloud into the darkness, confessed just as he emerged from what he thought was his dream, alone in bed, but the warm body beside him told him otherwise and as soon as those words broke the silence Robert shot up from the sofa. He winced in pain at the soreness and burning where Simon had entered him and quickly realized it hadn't been a dream at all. He was still naked, his body sticky with dried sweat and his own come on his belly, the sofa still damp where he shot out so hard earlier.

As bits and pieces of what he could remember floated across his groggy mind a doomed feeling began to swell. It was all true. This _thing_ that had happened between them was real and he never thought he would sink to such depths. He let another man fuck him and much to his horror, he reveled in that feeling during the entire act. They were like animals and he couldn't get enough. It drove him to ecstasy beyond anything he had ever felt.

He was repulsed.

He reached over and began to pick up his clothes from the floor as he felt the sofa shift from the weight of Simon's body sitting up. Robert's head was pounding as he wondered just how long Simon had been lying there, awake. And had he heard those damning words uttered by Robert so carelessly in the dark? _No, he couldn't have_ , Robert concluded.

"Robert, I-" Simon's whisper was hesitant. He almost sounded frightened.

"No!" Robert interjected loudly, but he couldn't turn around to face him, "Stop!" He couldn't take it and he still couldn't face him. He couldn't face himself.

"I-I've got to go." Why was Robert even telling him this? _Just pick up your clothes and move_ , he thought to himself and with that he stood, his balance almost thrown off as he hastily pulled his trousers on and then his shirt, followed by socks and shoes.

"Robert, listen... Don't go." Simon was trying, pleading.

Robert eyes finally shot up to Simon's face. He hated himself and he hated Simon even more for doing this to him. He couldn't listen to this anymore.

"Fuck!" He felt like he was going mad, "Why-why did...?!" It was useless and his frustration was building, " _Fuck_   _you!!_ " And he spat on the floor in front of him with such bitterness, such venom that Simon recoiled as if he'd been struck in the face and a sad, lost look immediately flashed in his dark eyes as he quickly looked down and reached for a pillow to cover his lap.

Robert's head began to throb even harder and he picked up his keys and headed for the door as Simon's pained expression was forever etched in his mind. He was going to be sick.

 

 


	22. A Prayer For Something Better

None of his so-called friends pulled him aside to voice their concern as to the pitiful state of his health. The only friends that existed at this stage were merely partners in excess. It was his family that was losing patience with their son and they'd had enough. Enough of witnessing the sorry state of him so out of his head on the mornings that he actually did come home, he could barely stand or speak, incoherent to the point of coma. They had no choice but to give him an ultimatum: after touring with The Cure he would have to pack up and find alternate lodging as soon as possible.  
  
It didn't take long for the current tour to feel like another Banshees tour; the same cities, the same venues... revisited only weeks later. It wasn't much different except he was in the position of being the front man in The Cure once again. That fact along with having to perform, however dismally, due to his utter exhaustion and drug-induced delirium, made each show a colossal chore.  
  
His heart wasn't in any of it and even this particular line up of the band seemed wrong and touring had only increased the friction among everyone involved. Everything was falling apart.  
  
Andy was a time bomb, becoming increasingly belligerent and even violent to the point where the police had to intervene on more than one occasion. Phil hated touring and would make himself scarce before and after each show, and Lol, now frustrated with the entire situation, decided to start doing his own thing.  
  
Disastrously, the controlled substances were more available and therefore, easier to abuse and at this point alcohol was mere child's play. Night after night Robert found himself entertaining the same agenda: acid, cocaine, pills, speed, PCP, hard liquor, beer... The list went on and Robert consumed all of it, voraciously. Miraculously, still remaining upright through many of the performances and would only manage to get himself into an even worse state on their nights off.  
  
With no one around him now, no confidant, no buffer, Robert opted to spend most evenings by himself stewing in his hotel room to either drink himself into a stupor or take whatever he could to forget his very existence. Most of all, he struggled to forget the one band mate, the one person he so sorely missed.  
  
When he wasn't completely obliterated or passed out, he thought about Simon constantly. Unfortunately, for Robert, that hadn't waned, and their brief encounter months before only intensified his feelings and desire. Sadly, out of desperation, on many nights Robert would pleasure himself when those sordid images of Simon, fully aroused, fucking him on that sofa, rose from the depths of his mind again and again. Coming in his hand as he sobbed helplessly, exhausted... tears of regret and frustration too strong of a force to hold back.  
  
***       ***       ***  
  
Robert laid on the bed propped up on pillows against the headboard, a half empty vodka bottle lazily traveling up to his mouth to take another long guzzle as he stared dully at the television blaring in the background. He couldn't think anymore, couldn't sleep anymore. He had been holed up in his room alone for too long. He had become a prisoner of his own distorted mind, pieces of which he felt he was losing each day. He detested being in anyone else's company and would rather spend time alone with no one but himself, yet his grim self-loathing was astonishing.  
  
He finally resigned himself to the fact that he needed human contact - a primal distraction of sorts. His recent cocaine consumption had heightened his sexual desire to monumental proportion and the vast amount of alcohol had evaporated his inhibition. No amount of pleasuring himself could repress his need and he would settle for almost anything at this point.  
  
He rose unsteadily, screwed the cap back onto the bottle and tossed it on the bed. As he swayed uncontrollably, his arm reached out in front of him, abruptly palming the wall in order to regain his balance.  
  
"Fuck's sake..." He muttered aloud and emitted a sharp, bitter snort at his own feebleness. He was already disgusted with himself and his night was just beginning.

***      ***      ***

Robert snorted the last line from the small mirror on the bedside table and an arm reached out for his shoulder. A feminine voice let out a breathy giggle as he tried to shift back to the woman on the bed and his drunken, doddery movements jostled the mattress where she was lying on her back.  
  
It wasn't such a huge effort to recruit a willing female at the hotel bar. Being in a band and having access to drugs did have its rewards on certain occasions, and easy companionship was one of them. He barely needed to utter a few sentences which was everything he had hoped for. Lately, he preferred little in the way of conversation as speaking was becoming an unpleasant, unnecessary effort and having to listen was even painfully worse.  
  
"Is there any more?" The woman asked.  
  
"No." Robert's answer was weak and raspy and he wondered just whose voice it really was that answered her question; it didn’t sound like him at all.  
  
The room fell silent as Robert settled at her side and pressed up against her, weakly attempting to balance his wavering body on his elbow. He lifted his trembling hand, slowly pushed up her shirt and began to sluggishly caress her belly, moving his hand up underneath to her breasts.  
  
His eyes were glazed and heavy and his breathing exaggerated, only from the multitude of substances consumed over the course of the evening. Actually, for all he knew it could very well have been the next morning, but no one had knocked or called his room to see just when he would emerge. Why should he care if the others didn't seem to notice if he was gone? Would it really even matter if he died right here in this bed? Oddly, he wished that he would be found that way.  
  
" _Ha!"_ His sudden outburst at that thought was loud and sharp, startling his companion.  
  
Her head turned quickly in Robert's direction and she propped herself up on her elbows, "Umm, you okay?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah." He muttered, keeping his eyes averted from her inquisitive gaze. He had to stop. He needed to lose himself.  
  
Robert swallowed hard and blinked, fumbling for the button of his trousers and then pulled the zipper down. He grabbed her limp hand and shoved it inside where she pulled down the front of his shorts and began rubbing him slowly. He wrenched her shirt up even higher and his hand lethargically squeezed her ample breasts, dipping his head to lick and suck on her nipples as she languidly stroked his now miraculously erect cock.  
  
"Mmm..."  Robert moaned, “Yes..." His eyes shut tight. It was what he wanted to feel for so long, but he needed more.  
  
He was on top of her now, pushing her skirt up roughly and haphazardly tugging at her panties, pulling them down on her thighs. She reached down and pulled them further until her one leg was free and Robert sank down in between her. His hand wandered back up her thigh and he moaned when his fingers found her wetness, rubbing and pressing against her as he lined his body up as best as he could and pushed his cock into her. Robert gasped and began to thrust. By now his senses were dulled and he tried slamming into her harder, repeatedly, only to lose his equilibrium and rhythm, slipping out of her until she pulled her legs up, spreading them wider, her hands on Robert's ass pushing him in deeper.  
  
As he continued to thrust unsteadily, he was barely able to focus on the face of the woman he was on top of and gradually, that image beneath him seemed to change into something else.  _Someone_ _else_. And as Simon's face appeared in front of Robert's hazy vision, he tried to turn away from his partner but it was no use. He couldn't escape that image in his mind no matter where his gaze landed or how tightly he shut his eyes.  
  
" _No!_ " He groaned helplessly. It was now Simon he felt beneath him, his body, his tightness, his heat. He clamped his eyes shut even tighter and pain began to pulse behind them.  
  
His loud whimper sounded as if he was being tortured and he buried his face in her dark hair to stifle his cry, but her hair, her skin...they didn't smell like Simon's at all; his was the smell he so loved, he so wanted. Robert felt the wetness of his own tears rolling down his cheeks as he struggled, panting and exhausted, desperately wanting to finish the act and to have his release, but he knew he couldn't go on. It was maddening.  
  
He pulled out of her suddenly and rolled off onto his back, but moved too quickly and lurched over the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud, shamefully sobbing, face down into the carpet in anguish for himself...but most of all, for Simon.


	23. A Prayer For Something Better

"Robert!" A voice called from behind the door.

Robert stirred and tried to lift his head from the floor. It was pounding and felt like it weighed a ton.

"Fuck." He whimpered listlessly. He was still alive.

"Oi! Robert! Wake up!" It was Lol, as usual.

"Go away..." He was cold and clammy and his body was shaking involuntarily as he struggled to form those simple words, hoping it was all he would be required to say for the rest of his life.

He heard the lock click and as the door swung open, the noise amplified in Robert's head and cut like a knife through his aching skull. He was going to vomit.

" _Well, shit._.." Lol exclaimed, standing over him surveying the scene. The room was in a shambles: whiskey and vodka bottles littered the floor, stubbed out cigarettes overflowing in ashtrays, drug residue, trash and clothing were strewn about and Robert was still sprawled on the floor with his trousers still open.

Lol cleared his throat and hesitated before asking, "Do you... D’you need help?"

He wasn't sure if he understood Lol's question. _Help?_

Robert pulled his face up out of the carpet and opened his mouth to speak, "I-I have to go..." his throat burned, but he continued, "...home."

He was shocked at his own words as they left his dry, cracked lips, and he took in a deep, trembling breath, slowly rolling over onto his back. At that moment, his gaze finally traveled up to meet Lol's, and Robert's tired, pleading eyes said everything to his old friend that needed to be said.

*****      ***      *****

He was permitted to stay once again at his parents’ home temporarily, under two conditions: that he 'clean himself up' and take a well needed respite from The Cure and his commitments with The Banshees.

The request hadn't been that difficult to fulfill as Robert immediately collapsed from exhaustion on their doorstep on the evening of his arrival back home and slept for almost three days straight. After promptly visiting his family physician, who was quite literally taken aback by the sight of him, he was under strict orders to have no excitement, no stress and most of all, no drugs.

He needed to absolve himself from the strain of any further responsibilities and as a result he cancelled the last few tour dates with The Cure and decided to also bow out of The Banshees upcoming jaunt. With only weeks to spare he phoned Severin, explaining his plight and even produced a doctor's note. Although regretful of his decision, that weight was now lifted. It was just the break Robert needed to get his life back in order at last and with his mind feeling refreshed, he looked forward to keeping himself busy. He started to read avidly once again and realized how he had missed the simple pleasure of getting lost in a book. His songwriting was resurfacing with a renewed passion as well without the added pressures of anything having to be finished within the constraints of studio time - he now had the freedom to write wherever and whenever he chose.

But not everything had been miraculously resolved and although Robert's head was now clear, it was no easy task avoiding his temptations and he kept his idle time to a minimum for that very reason. When he wasn’t filling in his days with details, those bleak, empty moments would creep back into his mind. Some mornings he would refuse to rise from his bed until late afternoon, the day gone and his mind overloaded, body covered in sweat and his heart racing, panic-stricken. He slowly and painfully came to terms with the realization that he had been so close to losing everything - his own life included - over the last few years due to his own selfishness, arrogance and careless excess. It came to the point where every single person that mattered in his life had seen him at his absolute worst. The arguments and even physical altercations when he didn’t get what he wanted became more and more prevalent until the easiest way of dealing with Robert’s sheer nastiness was to just simply vanish from his life.

Sadly, the most inexcusable behavior was inflicted upon the person he missed the most. He knew his treatment of Simon was severe; abusive both mentally and physically and he hated himself for that. He hated himself for his blind jealousy and rage and for feeling so ashamed at all that had occurred between them, but at the same time he couldn’t stop pining away for him.

His mind would often flash back to almost a lifetime ago when they first met, and soon after Simon joined The Cure, their first tour together. They had become dear friends, confidants, their bond had become incredibly close which was rare as Robert was never the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. How many times Simon had often said with his sly smile and a glint in his eye “partners in crime” as they sat drinking in their shared hotel room after a rare night out, always causing some sort of minor ruckus together yet emerging unscathed. It was such an innocent chapter in their lives. But there was always something else there and Robert could feel it, lurking in the shadows. He knew what that feeling was all along but was too frightened to admit it. His attraction, his desire, his _love_   for Simon was undeniable, unstoppable and he knew he had single-handedly tainted that innocence.

As Robert lay in the darkness, when the light of those unbearable days spent in bed at home finally faded and night set in, he remembered just how it felt to wrap his arms around Simon, to feel his body against his, to kiss his him - his lips so warm and alive. His mouth moving down his body to take in Robert’s hardness, to suck him off hungrily as Robert’s hands twisted in his dark, wild hair.

Other nights he would sweat and pant at the very thought of fucking Simon, reluctantly reaching down to stroke himself, murmuring and moaning out loud as he imagined Simon’s naked body writhing underneath him as he slid his cock into that delicious, tight heat. How he loved it when Simon would whimper for more and Robert would give it to him, driving himself in deeper, harder. And the most maddening was having Simon inside of him. It was a feeling of total surrender and abandon and Robert felt as if his heart would burst...and he would come in his hand, arching off the bed, biting his lip, crying out much too loudly.

He never imagined he could feel this way about another man, but this was different. Simon wasn’t like anyone else. And when that passion did happen between them he never imagined it would be so hot, so primal. It was beyond anything he’d ever experienced with anyone else and now after having tasted that forbidden desire he was lost in it. He needed what they had together: their friendship, there passion, their love. He needed all of it. He needed all of him.


	24. A Prayer For Something Better

It had been weeks since Robert sent his second letter and he still hadn’t received any response from Simon to either correspondence. His heart sank deeper into despair as each trip to the letterbox, hoping to come across anything that resembled Simon’s unmistakable scrawl, was fruitless. As the months passed, Robert grew more and more disconsolate over Simon’s silence. He knew his past behavior was beyond anything he thought he was capable of inflicting upon another human being: the intimidation, the lies, the confrontations, the jealous rage and sheer evilness, and most importantly, the horrifying physical assaults. All of it he shamefully admitted to in his letters, painfully casting his pride aside, and now he was cursing himself for foolishly baring his heart and soul. He couldn’t go on.

***        ***         ***

The Fiction office was the last place he saw Simon and it was, of course, the first place he looked. He arrived only to find Chris leaving, startled at Robert’s unexpected visit, to which Robert claimed he had to “pick up a few things” then slipped quietly up the stairs. He checked each room, but it was useless; neither Simon nor his belongings were in sight. He proceeded to rifle through cabinets and drawers, not having a clue as to what he was hoping to find until his eyes settled on the Rolodex on Chris’ desk. Relieved, he diligently flipped through the flimsy cards and finally found a number.

It wasn’t much in the way of conversation at all as Robert continued to ask Carol the same questions, or rather badgered her with no success. Her voice bordering on frustration as she tried to reason with him, explaining that she hadn’t seen Simon for the better part of the year and had no idea where he had gone. Period. Until finally, there was nothing more Robert could say except a detached and solemn goodbye as he quietly hung up the phone, muttering, “Fuck…”

Even arriving at Simon’s childhood home on the doorstep, he knew he was the enemy. His sister merely glared at him, knowingly, through the crack in the door, wrapping her sweater around herself tighter at the sight of Robert standing before her, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. _Could Simon have disappeared that easily? Of course he could have_ , he thought. After Robert’s inexcusable, sub-human treatment of him why would anyone tell _him_ , the monster, of Simon’s whereabouts? And a sudden, creeping feeling of paranoia overtook him as he stood in the doorway, wondering if after all this time, if his letters had actually been intercepted and promptly thrown in the trash to never see the light of day.

As his mind raced around even more possible scenarios, he grimly thought that maybe Simon’s demons finally did get the better of him and Robert felt his chest tighten at that unfathomable realization. Was he still alive, or was he?… _No_. Robert couldn’t think of it. That simply could not be, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask that question out loud. Those words could not be uttered by him, yet he had to know and he wouldn’t stop until he found out.

“Is-is your Mum home?” It was his last chance.

She sighed and her reply was tinged with an air of defiance, “Well, I don’t really—“

“Please.” Robert’s eyes were desperate, imploring. He could feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill over and he knew she had seen that. He needed her to.

“Okay, hang on.” she relented, sighing, “I’ll get Mum.”

It felt like a lifetime had passed before Simon's mother appeared and when she finally did, her expression of indifference was unfamiliar to Robert and her eyes continued to scrutinize him as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. She didn't smile nor did she invite him inside.

"Robert..." Peg was polite yet hesitant as she stood in the doorway, “Hello."

He just wanted to get this over with, "Hello Peg." His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment then dropped to the ground once again.

He had no idea how to proceed without sounding desperate, "I-I wanted to..." He fumbled, "Do you know where Simon is?" There was no other possible way to ask.

After a long pause she finally answered, "Well, you know he-he's..." and her voice trailed off.

Robert's mind wouldn't even let her finish and his thoughts raced at those words. He swallowed hard and braced himself for the heartbreaking news that would surely kill him.

"He's in London." She finished reluctantly, "With Matthieu."

Robert's eyes shot up to meet her gaze. He was stunned.

"Matty?" He squeaked out. He could barely speak.

"Yes, they've got a flat there."

He took in a breath of relief. Simon was alive. Robert dared to ask, "May I have the address?"

"Robert..." Her voice was firm, "He's been-he hasn't been well lately. I'm sure you've heard." She glared down at him over her glasses.

"No. No, I haven't." He had been in his own little world once again for all of these months. Unfortunately, he hadn't changed as much as he thought he did.

"Well, he's been going through a very bad patch."

"Oh...Oh, I see." He responded quietly and looked down at his feet. What more could he say? He knew he was partially, if not entirely, to blame and now here he was groveling on Simon's doorstep. He felt pathetic.

The space between the door and Simon's s mother grew smaller. He was being shut out now and he knew it. She continued on, almost dismissing him, "He really needs to be left-"

"Yes, I-I..." He quickly cut her off. He couldn't let her complete that sentence, "I understand." His smile was mournful, weak and his heart sank at the words he knew she was about to say.

His gaze drifted to the ground again and the stoop below him began to swim as tears began to surface. He couldn't breathe, his chest was heavy and he choked, finally whispering, "I-I'm sorry..." and his voice cracked, "Sorry... to bother you."

And as he turned to make his escape, Peg's hand unexpectedly extended out and landed lightly on Robert's arm, pulling him back gently.

"Robert..." She sighed at her change of heart, her voice softening, "Robert, wait, dear..."


	25. A Prayer For Something Better

Robert put the car in park just as he arrived at the proper address and his gaze drifted across the road. The building was looming, almost threatening to him, and he wondered just what he was doing there, waiting. He had second thoughts about all of this and even he considered it to be nothing short of stalking, but regretfully, his unstoppable impulse drove him to it. He didn't have a plan, didn't even know if he wanted Simon to notice him at all and he didn't care. He had to see him with his own eyes at last. It was almost like an obsession, and he foolishly wondered if Simon had even given Robert a second thought. His head suddenly felt heavy at that despairing rumination and he couldn't hold it up any longer, tiredly resting it on the steering wheel as his eyes moved hopelessly to his feet on the floor.

After only a moment he heard a door slam shut and a voice – that low, familiar voice – and Robert’s head snapped up, turning to the source of the sound, and it was so delightfully strange to hear it once again. His eyes settled on the movement of a figure across the street stepping away from the front door and he was instantly captivated, paralyzed at the sight of Simon after all this time and his heart fluttered in his chest as he continued to watch, surreptitiously. But as Simon stepped off the curb, his smile faded and he abruptly halted and stood in the street transfixed as cars swerved, narrowly avoiding him. As an anonymous horn blew in annoyance it seemed to jolt Simon out of his trance, his expression now incredulous at the sight of Robert's car lurking across from him and he quickly turned away, stumbling back onto the sidewalk only to continue on disoriented, wandering aimlessly up the road in the opposite direction.

“Shit!” Robert muttered aloud. He was leaving. Robert quickly put the car in gear and putted up the road after him.

He unrolled the window as the car crept alongside of him, “Simon!” He called to the lithe figure slowly trudging along with his head down.

Simon’s head turned for a brief moment at hearing his name and his jaw was firmly set with eyes narrowed. Robert could plainly see the disdain written all over his face and his head began to ache at the realization that all of Simon’s contempt was reserved just for him and only him: the horrific monster.

“Simon!" Robert 's desperation was growing. This wasn't working, "Stop... I need to-"

“ _Fuck off!_ ” That familiar voice now sounded so foreign to Robert and it was filled with venom as it spoke those words. He couldn’t bear it and in an instant, Simon slipped into an alleyway causing Robert to lose sight of him.

“Oh, fuck!” Robert panicked and swiftly turned the car in to follow him, not realizing just what he did as he pulled off the road and into the narrow space. Frustratingly, he couldn’t move forward any further as the expanse between the two buildings offered little room, barely enough to accommodate even the most compact of cars, his Lada included. He had no choice but to pursue him on foot.

“Simon!” Robert called again frantically as he squeezed out of the car and slammed the door. He would deal with backing it out later. As he ran to catch up, Simon glanced over his shoulder and began sprinting towards the iron gate at the end of the path, hoping to open it and finally slip away, but the lock on the lever wouldn’t turn and as Robert caught up to him he saw nothing but desperation; like a wild animal in a cage before him now trapped, looking for an escape and Simon’s eyes darted up over his head to the top of the gate.

“Simon, please… I-I’m sorry.” Robert was out of breath standing in front of him, and just aching to reach out and touch him, but didn't dare step closer.

Simon was breathless and said nothing as he backed away, his back slamming against the iron bars behind him. He quickly wrapped his arms around himself almost as protection and his eyes purposely averted Robert’s solemn gaze.

“Please, say something.” Robert pleaded, his eyes beginning to well up right in front of him. He had to stop.

“ _Say_ something?” Simon growled, still out of breath, his voice rising and his arms were now crossed in front of him, “What the fuck do you want me to say?!?!” His eyes were like daggers as he glared at Robert, “It doesn’t matter!”

“Simon, I’m…” Robert could no longer stand, could no longer think and he was so exhausted, so tired of crying. His legs felt weak, as if they were giving way and he dropped to the cobblestones in the alley on his knees. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He didn’t even know _what_ was happening. The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t let Simon leave.

That horrible, low purr of sarcasm in Simon’s voice made Robert cringe, “I’ve got to go, Robert…” It was as if Simon was spitting fire down at him and every word stung, “Have a nice life, _you fucking cunt…”_

As Simon began to step past Robert he grabbed at his ankle, his hands closing hard around it and he felt the sobs finally surface like a wave crashing down and sweeping in over everything. It was too overwhelming. This was his last chance and he was failing dismally.

“No.” Robert continued to beg, “Don’t-don’t leave!” His voice was small and strangled and his body was shaking, racked with sobs, but he needed to tell him now. He needed to let him know that those letters admitting to all the wrong he had done to Simon, all the evilness he imposed on him and all that he was willing to atone for, were still in safe keeping after all this time, untouched, and Peg had made sure of that. Her motherly instincts were only to protect her youngest son whose final breaking point had been reached. It was only after Robert had pleaded with her, practically throwing himself at her feet, that she finally relented and promised to hand them over to their rightful recipient: the one person he couldn't live without.

“Y-you never got my letters.” Robert swallowed. His throat was dry, voice wavering, and when he raised his head to meet Simon’s eyes with a quick flash of his own regretful, swollen, teary gaze, Robert could feel Simon’s body immediately stiffen under his hands.

“What… letters?” Simon’s voice was quiet, cautious.

“Written... to you… ages ago.” Robert was truly beaten down, hopeless. He looked down onto the cobblestones under him and muttered, shaking his head almost laughing at himself, delirious, “I… it-it doesn’t matter… you said so yourself.”

Defeated, he released Simon’s ankle and struggled to keep himself upright in that filthy alleyway. If there had been a cliff nearby, he would have jumped.


	26. A Prayer For Something Better

"Robert..." Simon was clearly irritated, " _Fuck_... Why?!" His voice was quiet and Robert was certain his hushed tone was from embarrassment; someone else had to have been present when he finally picked up the phone.

"Please, d-don't hang-"

Robert didn't have the chance to get the rest of his words out as he heard Simon curse below his breath, a door slam and the distinct sound of a bed frame squeaking. For a few moments Robert's thoughts became distracted at that noise and he dreamily imagined Simon flopping down, clad only in his shorts propped up on a pillow against the headboard, those long legs crossed...

He was quickly jolted out of his reverie.

"Y-you can't keep doing this!" Simon still sounded frustrated, but his voice was barely louder than a whisper, "Do you have any idea what time it is?!" There was shuffling and then the striking of a match as Simon lit a cigarette.

Robert ignored his question and remained silent, content to just listen to Simon; his movements, his voice... He was shocked that he had even continued to speak to him after that afternoon in the alleyway where Simon had left so abruptly, ignoring Robert's desperate pleas for him to stay. But what did Robert expect after the appalling behavior? This was the most Simon had said to him in years without telling him to fuck off. Had he finally succeeded in his relentless, tiring pursuit? Did his almost daily phone calls at all hours that had gone unanswered until now, finally pay off? He hoped that was the case. Now all he had to do was keep him on the phone; he had to hear his voice for just a little while longer.

As he heard Simon take a drag from his cigarette and exhale, Robert closed his eyes tightly, his brow furrowing, "Siiiiimmon..." He finally slurred his name, long and low for no reason other than to hear that sound leave his lips, realizing just how much he missed saying it. His sudden chuckle at that thought was breathy and tired as he clumsily brought the vodka bottle up to take another mouthful. He was drunk. _Again_.

There was a long silence and Robert began to panic at the dead air between them. His mouth was now up against the receiver pressing into it as he clenched it tighter in his hand.

"Hu-hello? Are you-?"

"Robert." Simon's tone took an air of concern, "Ha-have you gone mad?" His frustration was surfacing, "I mean... are you that out of it?"

Alcohol usually succeeded in keeping Robert numb for just long enough, but was having quite the opposite effect tonight. His emotions were in an uproar and had become insuppressible. At first, he merely chalked it up to the fact that he hadn't drank this much in a long time without taking other substances simultaneously, but then thought maybe Simon was actually right, maybe he was finally going mad.

"Ha..." He huffed, "Yeah, ‘fraid so." He had so pathetically answered both of Simon's questions.

Simon sighed long and hard and Robert hoped he would say something else. He needed to hear him again, "What... what do you want, Robert?" He asked wearily.

"I want..." Robert stopped himself as his anxiety grew, causing his voice to waver and he took another drink from the bottle. He needed to buy himself more time to choose the right words from his jumbled head, but couldn't sort his thoughts and instead, said absolutely nothing.

"Robert?" Simon asked cautiously.

"My umm... I.." Robert tripped over his own words feebly and hesitated for a few long moments, rubbing his temple slowly with his free hand before attempting to articulate, eventually adding, "I-I miss you." It was mournful and slurred, but he had said it. There was no reaction, nor movement on the other end of the line and now Robert felt ridiculous, "Fucking stupid, huh?" He muttered weakly. He knew that his admission wedged another awkward moment between them and his deliberate chuckle to fill the quietness was unsettling.

Robert opened his mouth to speak again, but instead an audible sob suddenly escaped his throat and he took a long, deep breath to calm himself, mumbling aloud for failing miserably, trying to form the words he so longed to say to his best friend and his hand dropped into his lap, clutching the receiver limply.

As Robert stared down at it he heard a familiar, faraway voice call his name from the mouthpiece.

“Robert?”

He sniffed and took another gulp from the bottle, his eyes still fixed on the receiver lying motionless in his lap.

“Robert? Are you still there?” A long pause and then, “Is-is everything?... Are you alright?”

He took another deep breath and slowly, finally lifted it to his mouth and closed his eyes tightly. He was terrified, “Miss you…” He muttered hopelessly. His chest ached with a dull pain and he blurted out, “…So fuckin’ stupid…” Another sob exited, “so stupid…” His whisper faded away and he took yet another swig of vodka. There was no turning back now, he was finally falling apart right in front of the very person he needed to speak to and he couldn’t stop it.

Finally, a long breath sounded from the other end of the phone, almost a sigh of defeat, “No. It-it’s not… you're not... stupid.” Simon’s reaction to Robert’s statement was so small, so quiet and he wasn’t even sure he heard him correctly.

“Robert…” Simon continued after a moment, “ It’s umm… It’s really late. Almost 3:30 and you—“

“No, please… don’t.” He couldn’t let him hang up. He didn’t know what he would do if he did, “I just want to hear you and... I, umm...” He struggled to regain his train of thought and his shaking hand quickly came up to rub his burning eyes, “Simon?” He asked timidly.

“Yes?”

“I-I’m sorry.” It was a pained, drunken whisper and he choked, his throat feeling like as if it was closing as a sob began to surface.

“Rob—“

“So, so sorry…” He was weeping now, his hand squeezing the receiver as if holding it was the only thing keeping him from falling off of the edge of the earth and sliding down into his own, dark hell. His vision, by now blurred from the alcohol was even more obscured by his own tears as he continued to sob, the now empty bottle mindlessly slipping from his hand to the floor, landing on the carpet with a dull thud.

“Robert. I can’t… do this.” Simon was firm, yet there was a clear hesitation in his sorrowful voice.  Robert awkwardly lunged forward on the sofa, stopping himself just before he drunkenly teetered onto the floor face first at hearing those words. He couldn’t be saying this now.

Robert felt like screaming.

He had to convince him, no matter how drunk and incoherent his words were. He couldn't let him go, "Simon, just-"

“Don’t you-you know it’s not even you?… It’s just… just everything… _everyone_.”

“ _What???"_ Robert was truly muddled, "Who?” He asked.

“Jus-just never mind, okay?” Simon was getting impatient, his voice more exasperated.

"Suddenly he remembered what Simon's mother had told him about his "sickness" and knew very well what she had meant and he hoped Simon had finally rid himself of that poison - and _him._ That nameless face. He couldn't bear to think of it.

“Everyone?... _Who???_ ” Robert demanded, his voice growing louder. He needed to know what “everyone” he was talking about. Was _he_ bothering him??? Robert wouldn’t stand for it. He refused to sit by helplessly and let this happen. He would find him and literally kill him with his own hands.

“Robert, I said never mind. Look... I-I've got to go."

Robert's mind was a mess, his thoughts swirling nonstop in his head and sadly, one of the worst nights of his life came rushing back and he remembered just what he did to Simon on that bed. His eyes shut tightly and he rubbed them roughly, wishing he could erase those images that had now become a permanent part of his memory. He had to let him know how truly sorry he was and he only hoped that Simon would forgive him. Perhaps, some day.

He choked and suddenly it fell from his lips, “I need you. I-I can't... don't... leave." He knew how drunk and utterly horrifying he sounded but he had to let Simon know the truth.

There was a long sigh from Simon. _He was waiting,_ Robert thought.

Robert continued, struggling, determined to make this better, “I-I don’t care… about anyone else... Who you’ve been-” but Robert stopped. He simply couldn’t say it and he sank down deeper in his seat as his stomach turned. He could never say he didn't care about all of Simon's previous partners and thinking of it tore him up inside. He'd never felt this way about anyone else apart from Mary. All of his past encounters were casual and all were with women, except _this_... with Simon, and he knew full well from the very beginning, what this really was.

He loved him - he loved everything about him and for too long he tried to push those feelings out of his mind out of shame over the fact that he could feel this way about another man, and guilt over his relationship with Mary. He could only ever succeed in quelling those feelings for Simon temporarily as those feelings always returned, at times with such an intensity he had to dull his senses yet again. It became a vicious cycle and the longer they remained apart the more intense it had become. That fire for Simon burned from within and was something that Robert could never rid himself of. He was truly obsessed and powerless. 

He heard Simon shift yet again with the sounds of sheets being rumpled and Robert's mind began to wander dangerously further. Just the thought of Simon stretched out on the bed... to touch him, caress him, feel his warm skin under his hands, to feel his erection through the thin fabric of his shorts as he kissed him hungrily - it was undoing him.

Robert's lamentable whisper was barely loud enough to hear on the line, “Simon… I-I want you... So, much..." He always did, from as far back as he could remember. He couldn’t help but admit it and he hated himself for it. “I need you. I-I need to see you…feel you...” His voice was wavering shamefully, his lips trembling as he said those words and just thinking of it was making him hard. He needed him, in _every way_ …

“Rob-Robert…What—“

“Shhh…” It was long, wordless groan of passion and such pain and longing he couldn’t stop. He was so drunk, yet so hot he ached. His breath was already rapid and exaggerated as his hand slid down to touch himself through his trousers.

“Simon, I need—…” He awkwardly popped open the button, unzipped his trousers and took his cock in his hand and so slowly began to stroke. It was so slick and throbbing and he licked his own lips, imagining Simon’s head bending down over him, taking his erection in his sweet, hot mouth, sucking him until he exploded hard into the back of his throat.

He could barely speak, “Fuck!” He began to quicken his pace as he moaned aloud, whispering with such lust he couldn’t hold himself back, “Ohh... I-I love it when you suck me…” And his entire body shuddered as those words left his lips. Robert couldn’t take it, “Simon… Te-tell me you want my cock…” He wasn’t above begging now, "Please." He whispered harshly. He had to hear that voice as he stroked himself. He wanted to come.

Simon’s low, quiet whisper almost made Robert come right then, “Robert… I-I, but…”

He was shaking and he could hear Simon's quiet breathing on the other end.

“Christ! I want to shove my cock in you…." He whispered, and threw his head back on the cushions in desperation, his breath now merely short, sharp bursts, "...and fuck you." Another sharp inhale, and then a long sigh, "F-fuck..." And his body was blazing with an intense fire. He was so hard it was painful and he continued, moaning more excitedly as images of Simon beneath him as he entered him from behind played over and over in his mind. He could almost hear Simon calling Robert's name, the feel of his body, his heat around him and their rhythm together as Robert’s engorged cock impaled him hard on the bed over and over again until he was-

“I-I’m coming! Fuck!!” He gasped as his hand pumped just one more time and then a tensing, paralyzing orgasm shot through his body as he exploded, ejaculating over and over again in his hand as he cried out deliriously, the receiver now slipping out of his hand and bouncing onto the floor with a clunk.


	27. A Prayer For Something Better

He cracked his eyes open reluctantly and felt cold. He didn't remember taking off his shirt, nor passing out with his face smashed down into the carpet of the front room. He lifted his head and it felt like a drill had bored a hole through his skull and he winced at that dull, throbbing pain and blankly stared down at the area rug that was now damp with his dribbling saliva. It was familiar, but it wasn't the front room of his parents’ house was it?

He scanned the area for any other familiar objects that would piece this puzzle together. There was a sofa and a coffee table, all nondescript, but it was the collection of albums lined up over the length of the entire floor against the wall beneath the stereo that made Robert realize just where he was: Severin's flat.

But how?

As he gingerly raised his aching body up off the floor and onto his knees, he felt fabric brushing his skin and as he looked down he was shocked to realize that his shirt was actually torn, clear up the back and stained. He was at a complete loss now and felt a wave of panic wash over him as he took a deep, long breath. He noticed his body was swaying and he placed one hand on the floor to steady himself. How could he possibly still be drunk? He scanned the room further and his eyes ticked down to what looked like a cricket bat on the floor beside him where he had woken up. It had various signs of damage and also appeared to be stained, much like his shirt.

"What the fuck?!" Robert's own confused exclamation startled him in the silence. "Shit..." His voice trailed off. He needed to find Steve.

Robert attempted to stand in the middle of the room and listened for any sound that would alert him to another human’s presence, but there was only silence. He took a wobbly step forward and stopped abruptly - the dull, throbbing pain in his skull had quickly turned into a sharp, knife-like slice of pulsating agony and his hands clutched at his temples, squeezing his head between his palms.

“Ughh!...” The pressure wasn’t helping.

He waited for the pain to eventually subside then slowly shuffled his sore, battered body to the first bedroom where he saw the unmade bed with no sign of Steve. He made his way to the second bedroom and then back down the hall to the bathroom and finally, the kitchen and no other signs of life were discovered. The clock on the counter read 3 o’clock, but he vaguely remembered Simon informing him over the phone that it was 3:30 and he suddenly realized that it must have been the next afternoon as daylight blazed through the open drapes in the front window. He fleetingly thought of all the times he wished away the rain and dreariness... Now why on earth did it have to be so sunny and cheerful outside on this day? His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, quickly closing the drapes, plunging the room into a muted, amber glow.

He flopped in an armchair and slumped over with his head in his hands and let out an audible groan of dismay as he grudgingly recalled _that_ phone call to Simon and he was horrified at what he remembered: dialing his number, hearing Simon’s voice, drunkenly begging and pleading for his forgiveness… and he winced at what he recalled soon after; letting his impulsiveness get the better of him. It was all too much and most of all, Robert knew it was all too much to be forgiven.

And now to find himself mysteriously at Steve’s flat… _What the hell happened?_   Robert kept asking himself repeatedly, trying to sift through what was left of his recollection, but only fragments dotted his mind. He remembered waking up with the receiver lying on the floor at his feet. But how did he get here? He could only hope that he had been smart enough to at least realize that he had been in no shape to drive and that he had taken a taxi, or at the very least walked or stumbled to Steve’s doorstep. However, the only way of validating this would be to peer out the window in order to spot his Lada parked on the street, and at that very moment his stomach lurched, his eyes darting from his car reluctantly back to the cricket bat on the floor across the room. It had only confirmed his worst nightmare; he didn’t have to think twice about from where that armament had emerged. It had been kept under his seat for certain, “unexpected situations” and never actually used… until, perhaps now.

Robert shook his head slowly at the recklessness that had once again led the way to his debauchery, perhaps even criminality that he was so terrified to relive in his mind. He knew it was only a matter of time before the truth would re-surface in his thoughts or be revealed by external means. Did his actions the night before warrant a visit from the police? Did he commit some gross act on another human being? He knew he was quite capable of it after all the abuse he inflicted upon Simon… _Simon_. No. Had he committed murder without even realizing it? Would he be going to prison? Worse yet, was Simon… _dead_ by Robert's own, evil hand?

He slumped down in the chair even further, his ribs aching with soreness as he tried to shift in the soft, sagging upholstery. He wished he could disappear, just melt away into the cushions, “Simon, please be… No.” He muttered aloud.

He couldn’t stand himself anymore and couldn’t live with what he thought he had surely done to Simon. His life was now nothing. He was nothing but a worthless piece of garbage and he simply could not accept his own existence any longer.

The monster had to be stopped and Robert finally admitted to himself just how it had to be done.

He rose from the chair and slowly, calmly approached the small desk and opened the first drawer to reveal a plastic vial of pills. Severin had never been that cautious with keeping his “prescriptions” out of sight and Robert knew just where to find them. He pried open the cap and emptied a small handful of pills – what was left of the bottle - into his hand. He didn’t count how many and didn’t care to know what they were, as long as they did the job quickly and painlessly. He threw them into his mouth with his eyes closed, chewing up as many as he could to achieve an even quicker effect, then reconsidered, swallowing most of them whole as the sour mouthful made him gag.

If that didn’t do the trick, he had the ultimate back-up plan.

He stumbled into the kitchen and spotted the knife block immediately and as he walked over to the counter he wondered just which one would do the job most efficiently. He stood before them, slowly lifting each piece of cutlery out of its snug crevice carved within the wooden block. The first one was a small cleaver-like piece. He slid it back into the block and picked another. He needed something sharp, long and large; a tool that would do the job in one easy puncture. He continued to slide each one out for evaluation, admiring their glint in the afternoon light that was beginning to grow fuzzy around the edges of his vision as the pills were now beginning to make their presence known. He had to make his decision quickly if he wanted to complete the act. His eyes moved to the serrated blade of the knife he was now holding up in his hand. It was long and jagged and would not only slice, but sever anything in its path, inflicting irreparable injury.

It was perfect.

Robert turned towards the small window and admired the glint of the blade in the bright light for a moment longer. He finally turned the knife with the blade facing his chest and moved it towards him slowly, the blade now piercing the delicate skin just below the bone of his sternum. He looked down and could see a small droplet of blood forming on his white t-shirt. His breathing was becoming erratic and his body was beginning to sway as he struggled to steady the knife, pushing it into his skin even deeper as a burning sensation began to swell.

“Robert?” A voice called, sounding as if it were galaxies away, “Robert!!! What the fuck are you doing???!!!”

As Robert gasped and whirled around to face the doorway, the knife fell from his hands and landed on the floor with a loud clatter.

“I-I was jus—“ His vision was awash in a white, grainy light and he couldn’t make out the figure standing before him no matter how hard he tried to squint his drooping eyes. He felt a warm trickle running down his belly and as his gaze dropped down unsteadily to his shirt, the spot of blood began to spread quickly and small droplets were now dotting the floor at his feet.

A strong hand unexpectedly reached out to grab his arm tightly, and he attempted to cry out in protest, but no words were exiting his open mouth. He heard nothing but far away, random sounds and wondered if someone was speaking to him or if the babbling was actually coming from his own lips.

He desperately needed to pick another knife now to finish this, but as he lunged forward his legs were no longer holding his body upright and without warning and without a sound, the floor came rushing up to meet him and the world around him went black.

 


	28. A Prayer For Something Better

Robert awoke abruptly with a jolt, his nasal passages invaded by an all too familiar, nearly gagging scent. He opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the glare of the fluorescent lighting overhead and could barely make out a figure sitting in a chair across from him.  
  
He moved his head slightly, but the smell didn’t dissipate like he had hoped. That distinct odor infiltrated everything.   
  
The figure turned toward Robert’s movement then stood and approached cautiously.  
  
“Robert?” Rita’s gaze remained fixed on her son as she brought the tissue up to her red, swollen eyes, dabbing the tears away as she smiled weakly and spoke again, “H-how are you feeling, love?” She asked quietly, almost pitifully.   
  
“I-I don’t…” The pain in his throat and chest was excruciating, causing him to flinch as his eyes closed tightly. It finally subsided and after a few moments he tried again to form the words, “Okay…” he whispered harshly. It was a lie but he didn’t have the heart to upset her any more.   
He took a deep breath and recoiled at the burning still evident, “Wh-what happened?”   
  
Rita knew her son all too well and quickly took over, clearly seeing the pain displayed on his face, “Had to pump your stomach… and stitches from your…" She cleared her throat, "...accident.” She continued on at a measured pace, “Steven called the ambulance and contacted your father and I.”   
  
Again, Steve had seen to Robert 's well-being and it was just too much. He could do nothing but glance down at his chest at the large bandage that had been placed over his knife wound.   
  
“Here dear, drink something.” Rita placed a cup of water with a straw in front of him and Robert merely glared at it in her hand.   
  
He shook his head and knew he should say something, but what? He knew he was putting her through hell and had been for months. He hated to think of what Alex thought, or maybe if Robert was lucky, he had given up at this point and didn't think anything at all. His own son was a failure at every endeavor these days; everything he touched. Worst of all he was an even bigger failure at taking his own life. He couldn't even succeed at that and simply lying in that hospital bed like an invalid wasn't making matters any better. Robert could only hope his father hadn't seen him like this, but he didn't have the nerve to ask. He couldn't bear to know the truth.   
  
His eyes began to well up and he finally looked up at his mother and he struggled painfully. She had to know just how sorry he really was, “I-I’m sorry…” All he could muster was a whisper once again. It sounded just as weak and pathetic as he was himself and the tears began to flow quickly, obscuring his mother’s image before him to a watery blur.   
  
He thought back to standing in Severin's kitchen and the knife in his hand, how it felt. The glint that bounced off of it in the sun as it beamed through the window... and right then he wished he got the chance to complete the act. For her sake. For his father’s sake. So they could both finally be rid of the failure of a son he had become and most of all, so he could rid himself of the pain of living his life without Simon.  
  
“Robert… Shh.” she whispered, moving her hand to his head, gently smoothing away the dark, wild, matted mess of hair from his eyes. “Don’t talk now. Rest. You’ll be out of here soon.”   
  
As Rita's sentence registered in his head, a shaky, stifled sob exited his mouth unexpectedly and his hand reached up to cover the sound.   
  
That was exactly what he was afraid of.  
  
***        ***        ***  
  
As much as he detested lying helpless that very room, held prisoner by the IV, he knew it was the only thing protecting everyone including himself, from his own bad judgment and rash, reprehensible actions. Soon he would be forced to leave this austere haven only to face the misery that had become his own life once again and he just couldn’t. As much as he hated it, he would have given anything to prolong his stay and his mind raced with the possibilities of carrying out that wish.  
  
It was only when he looked up at his mother standing over him, stroking his arm gently that he knew he couldn’t go on with his ridiculously selfish idea of further self-mutilation. He couldn’t bear to think of what another one of his ill-conceived plans would do to her and as he looked into her eyes, her tearful, pitiful expression was one she was never successful at concealing and Robert recognized it immediately. He felt such self-reproach and anger at himself that he couldn’t possibly speak without screaming. He had to turn away from her in order to keep his composure and his eyes darted to the chair in the corner of the room.  
  
“Robert, I wish everything was better for you.” Rita said with a sad smile, “I-I just don’t understand why…” She sniffed, “… why you would try to do such a thing.” Her hand came up once again to wipe tears from her eyes with another tissue and she took in a long breath. Robert still couldn’t bear to look at her yet she continued softly, “Please… What can we do to help you? You know we would do anything to help you…” She began to sob softly in between her tender pleas, “ Don’t you know that?” She swallowed hard, “You should go back to the doctor as soon as you—“  
  
“No!” He couldn’t listen anymore. “Mum…” He stumbled over his words searching for something to divert the conversation from its current path, “H-has Dad been..?” The raspy voice that sounded with the very question he dreaded to hear the answer to sounded almost alien. Maybe it was the pain medicine. He didn’t sound like himself and had no idea why he felt the need to ask as he knew his father well enough to know better.  
  
After a few moments Rita shook her head slowly then looked down, “No," then quickly added,"Not yet.” There was so much disappointment in her helpless reply that Robert could feel his anxiety start to build. He felt a tense heaviness in chest and his throat constricted. He regretted even asking that question now. The awkward silence between them was eventually filled when his mother spoke again, “Just Steven.”  
  
Robert sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn’t help but convince himself that the only reason Severin appeared at all was to simply verify how close to death Robert really was just so he wouldn’t be required to call ambulances at all hours and be further inconvenienced.  
  
“Ah, oh…” Rita added, “You did have a few other visitors, I think.”  
  
Robert clenched his eyes tight at the thought of just that one other person.  _Mary,_  he almost murmured aloud.  
  
“Chris and Simon.”

 _Simon._  
  
Robert’s eyes flew open and his heart began to pound furiously in his chest. The groggy medicated fog he had been under had immediately lifted and he grimaced with pain as his wound began to pulsate as a result of the sudden bolt of adrenaline that coursed through his body.  
  
A broken, shaky whisper exited his lips, “What?” He was stunned.  
  
“Yes, I think so…”  
  
“You  _think_  so?” Robert was confused.  _It was simple,_  he thought,  _Simon was either here or he wasn’t_. _Why was it so difficult to differentiate between the two?  
_  
“I-I mean I saw him leaving.”  
  
“ _This room?"_  Robert asked incredulously.  
  
“Well, now…” She paused as she carefully recalled the sequence of events, “I saw him walking down the hall towards the lift as I was rounding the corner.”  
  
“ _What… hall?"_ Robert’s throat burned and his voice, or what was left of it, continued to rise with agitation.  _Seriously?_  Robert thought.  _Who was on medication here?...  
_  
Rita looked down at Robert, perplexed by his sudden insistence.  
  
“Well, this one. The same hallway myself and Steven walked to get to your room.”  
  
Robert couldn’t breathe. _Simon had visited him???_ Perhaps he had gone to see someone else as Robert realized he wasn’t the only patient on this floor.  
  
“What did… he say?”  
  
“Oh, nothing dear. He was getting into the lift with Chris and didn’t see us, but it was Simon. I’d recognize him anywhere.” She stated with finality.  
  
It was true, Robert thought. Simon was without a doubt so uniquely beautiful one could never mistake his presence.  
  
But he had to be certain if he did, in fact, visit Robert as he lay unconscious...and he would start by asking the nurses just outside his room.  
  
He rose from the mattress quickly and heard his mother’s voice cry out in protest as Robert wailed in pain and shot back on the bed from the stitched and bandaged wound, which was obviously much worse than what he had remembered and the IV still embedded kept him tethered. He was trapped. He could barely catch his breath and he laid back cautiously, his body shaking, his legs uselessly dangling over the edge.  
  
“Robert!” She was beginning to become irritated at her son’s foolishness. “Just where on earth do you think you’re going?!” Rita clutched at Robert’s legs, moving them back up onto the bed.  
  
“I-I need to see—“ His throat was burning and his chest was heaving an throbbing even more with every word, but he couldn’t stop.  
  
“Nonsense! Now just lie still and stop being so ridiculous! Honestly, sometimes I just don’t understand you!”  
  
He was becoming more impatient. He had to leave and he bellowed urgently, “Mum!” He simply had to find Simon, “I’ve got to go!” His pain becoming more and more apparent as he shouted out.  
  
“What?!” Her eyes widened with shock and concern and she was raising her voice “You are not leaving now, Robert. You need to wait—“  
  
"Shit! Where are my fucking clothes?!” He barked loudly and his eyes darted around the room searching for anything that remotely resembled an article of clothing. All he needed was trousers and a shirt, but he didn't see anything. At this point, he couldn’t care less if he left shoe less and clad only in the flimsy hospital gown - his mind was already made up. He tried sitting up again to escape and moaned in agony as the pain now radiated throughout his entire mid-section.  
  
“Robert, listen to me. Please, you are in no condition to—!“ Her hands were gripping his shoulders, trying to hold him captive on the bed as he squirmed, furiously pulling her arms away and pushing up again, biting his lip at the now excruciating pain, trying to stifle a whimper, but could do nothing but flop down on his back in defeat.  
  
His voice was rising desperately now as he struggled to rise yet again, “Mum!”  
  
Instantly, a waifish figure purposefully entered the room and Robert’s mother quickly moved away, her eyes almost pleading and all Robert could feel was a warm, rushing calmness spread throughout his body. He was sinking now, melting peacefully and slowly into the mattress.

 


	29. A Prayer For Something Better

It had been weeks since he was holed up at his parents house after his release from the hospital to heal and rest, but now his situation had developed into an excuse to wallow in his self induced misery alone. He was in a constant state of malaise from pain medication and moroseness from the day to day chore of simply existing. The atmosphere was tense in the house as well and he rarely made an appearance, not leaving his room for days at a time. Showing his face only to use the hall bath, to briefly visit the kitchen for tea and to venture out lethargically to peer in the letterbox once again - the only hope he had left.

When he did make contact with human-kind - his immediate family - he offered nothing in the way of conversation or rebuttal other than blunt, tired, one word responses. Strangely, he couldn’t even face, of all people, his own mother after the blatant episode of weakness he displayed in that hospital bed and he strangely made a concerted effort to avoid her presence at all costs. He knew she would eventually ask and Robert could never tell her what the motive was for his actions and how much he really hated himself for following through with his impulsive behavior. He could never admit to her that it was Simon he constantly longed to see, that he could not live without. Lastly, he could never tell her that he may have done something terrible to someone else… and he had absolutely no memory of it at all. Instead he stayed in bed in his room, thinking until his head ached, then taking the pills to not only deaden the pain from his wound, but to deaden his thoughts that whirled around in his head to the point of nausea.

***       ***       ***

His eyes fluttered open as he awoke to the sound of voices in the hallway speaking in hushed tones then finally, a soft knock on the bedroom door.

“Yes.” he responded, not bothering to rise from the bed to open it—he rarely got out of it these days. “Come in.” He mumbled listlessly, pulling the covers up on his body and propping himself up on the pillows.

The door creaked open and he was surprised at the unusual sight of his father standing there with Rita peering over him briefly before disappearing quietly down the hall.

“Robert…” Alex started, “Good. You’re awake.” It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. He paused and glanced around the room, surveying the mess and clutter, “So…”

“Yes?” Robert asked quietly and sighed. He was just so tired anymore, but could never sleep, chronically overcome with apprehensiveness and dread and being confronted by Alex wasn’t making things any better. It felt like his father’s eyes were burning a hole into the side of his head and Robert kept his gaze on the clutter in front of him, avoiding that look of frustration and disappointment he had seen shot in his direction too many times, lately.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better… You look much better.” He spoke with his usual assertiveness, yet he was trying to be gentle. Confronting his son, especially with Robert in such an unpredictable and unstable state, wasn’t something he was accustomed to.

“Dad, I…” Robert paused nervously, he was overcome with regret, and struggled to gather his strength for what he knew he had to say, “I’m sorry… for everything.” It was the most words he’d spoken in weeks and he swallowed hard, shocked at himself. He was whispering, his throat hoarse, “I’m sorry for being… being so horrible. Putting you and Mum through all this…” His voice trailed off. He honestly could think of nothing else to say that would make it better. Nothing that Alex would believe anyway. He wished he still hadn’t hated himself.

“Look…” Alex cleared his throat, “I understand you’ve been going through somewhat of a bad patch lately.”

Robert was no fool. That was very much an understatement; he was a basket-case.

"However…”

He recognized that tone immediately and knew just what was coming as his father now glared down at him, causing Robert to clench the blanket in his hand, his body tensing with a familiar anxiety.

Alex straightened his posture and continued, “It’s not helping you, continuing to live here. And your mother… well, it—it’s been tough for her to say the least…” His sigh was long and weary, “We thought it would be best if you had a place of your own. Perhaps moving closer to London would suit your… lifestyle better. At any rate, anyplace would be better than here for you. For all of us...”

He knew his father would never actually elaborate as to just why he was throwing his youngest son out of the house. Robert’s blatant, self-pity and irresponsible, out of control behavior sealed his fate for the final time and he had no choice and his father’s ruling only meant one thing: that he was now forced to snap out of his catatonic existence.

He was devastated.

“Dad—“ Robert began to panic, searching for something - a way to try and convince him that he would change, but it was no use. He had unwisely squandered his chances to set things right and was now left with nothing.

“You know if you need money we can help. That’s not an issue.” Thanks to his years of corporate tenure at Upjohn Pharmaceuticals, the Smith household was moderately well off and they lived comfortably. They were never lacking financially.

“No, Dad, I don’t need money.” Robert’s royalties from The Cure were adequate, but even if that wasn’t the case, even if he was in dire straits he would never dream of asking his parents for assistance. He always provided for himself one way or another.

“I-I jus—“

“Robert…” Alex quickly cut him off.

“Dad—“ Much to Robert’s horror, he was begging his father, almost whining, his voice wavering on the verge of tears.

“Enough! It's settled.“ Alex’s voice cut him off for the last time. As far as he was concerned, his verdict was passed and there would be no further discussion. There never was when Alex had made up his mind. His own obstinacy mirrored his father's so closely that Robert couldn’t help but think that the apple did not fall far from the tree and he chuckled bitterly at that, instantly regretting his audible murmuring as Alex shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his glare still fixed. Robert’s eyes darted up to his father’s nervously and he could almost see a hint of repugnance at that sudden lack of self-control.

His father was determined to make his point known and continued on, resolutely, “You have until the end of the month to get yourself sorted.”

He paused, only for a moment, then turned quickly and shut the door behind him and Robert finally let his hands release from the covers, his body limply falling back onto the bed. It was done and he couldn’t have been more heartbroken. His family, his last refuge, the last ties he had to reality had finally cast him aside. Robert turned onto his stomach and choked back a sob into his pillow. He had never felt so alone.

***      ***      ***

The last of Robert’s clothes were thrown in the back of his jeep. He tended to not own many things except for a clutch of records and cassettes he couldn’t do without, a small quantity of clothes, books and an accumulation of precious photos which he kept in a large envelope. It was agreed that his guitars and some of his smaller equipment could be kept at Rita and Alex's for the time being, until he was settled. The rest of the clutter in his room was merely objects he managed to pick up or collect over the years and he decided that whatever he amassed he would leave behind, preferring to travel light.

As he stood in the middle of the mess in his room, he quickly flipped through a manila folder filled with papers of partially written songs, lyrics, and hurriedly scrawled notes, only to suddenly stop after finding a postcard addressed to Simon. Robert remembered it well. It was one he had so drunkenly penned, “I wish you were here…” on the back while on tour with The Banshees, intending to send it when he built up the nerve, but sadly, that had never happened. _It wouldn’t have mattered anyway_ , Robert thought dejectedly. His other letters of pleading and explaining obviously had no effect on Simon so why would a hideous, simple, cryptically written postcard change anything? He sighed, folded it and stuffed it in his pants pocket, leaving the folder behind on his bed.

***       ***       ***

The only thing good about his basement flat was that the huge bed he had delivered along with a few lamps actually fit into the bedroom space. They were the only pieces of furniture he had the motivation to purchase in that first month. He lived almost monk-like, leaving his bed only to use the bathroom and venture to the front door when his take away had arrived.

As Robert sat on the bed in the dim light eating the last of his pizza, he opened the flap on the large, yellow envelope and tilted it, watching as the photos tumbled out onto the bed. He smoothed his hand over the pile of pictures, spreading them out on the mattress, taking care to separate the black and whites from the color ones. There were so many, going back years. Old friends, family, Mary… He picked a faded one up of the two of them together, both of them smiling and looking happy and his heart was heavy with regret at how things had turned out. He put it back down slowly and continued to scan the pile, unexpectedly surprised at how many more black and white photos he actually had.

As he studied the content, his heart skipped a beat as he finally realized they were all of Simon. He continued to look at them, smiling sadly. He loved black and white pictures; the contrast of the subject matter was always so much more striking in black and white. _And of course, what better subject matter was there than Simon?_   Robert thought and exhaled, his chest tightening, almost painfully so, as he picked up a shot he had taken years ago when they were much younger. It was a simple photo of Simon leaning with his arms crossed, his back against an old brick wall, those long legs clad in tight jeans, crossed at the ankles with his head tilted slightly down, his eyes sparkling and lips parted with just a hint of a shy smile that was visible. Robert couldn’t even remember where it was taken, but it had always been his favorite and he couldn’t stop gazing at it.

He ran his finger over the photograph and emitted a teary, sorrowful chuckle, propping it up on the pillow next to him. He slid the pizza box off the bed and onto the floor, pushed the other photos to the far side and pulled the sheet up over himself. He was exhausted and as he laid down, turning to face the picture of Simon, more wild thoughts marched through his head yet again. He now made a promise to himself that he would mail that postcard so carelessly tossed on the counter weeks ago. He had to try one last time.

 _Tomorrow,_ he thought.

His gaze remained fixed on that lithe figure, his eyes burning at the edges and he reached out his hand just touching the corner of the photo as a familiar watery haze once again overtook his vision.

"Tomorrow..." He whispered aloud. And as the image began to fade from view through his tears, he drifted off at last.


	30. A Prayer For Something Better

"Robert, don't forget this one.” She handed him the case for his acoustic guitar and he simply threw it into the back of his jeep with the other guitars and cases, not even bothering to put them away.

“Right.” He climbed in the driver's seat. He was eager to leave before his father pulled in and started asking questions about how he was doing. _What_ he had been doing. _Ha!_ Robert thought sarcastically and shook his head at himself.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” She offered.

“No, thanks.” Robert answered.

“Are you sure? It's just been made.”

“No. I-I've got to go, Mum.”

Go where? Back to what? _Nothing_ , the voice in his head answered plainly.

“Oh! Wait!” She called, “Hang on, one more thing!”

“Shit! _Rita!”_ He muttered almost whining as he got out of the car and began to trudge up the walk.

“It’s just some mail that's come for you.” She smiled, “I've been meaning to forward it on, but it must've slipped my mind.”

Robert froze in his tracks and stared, his eyes widening at the sight of the white envelope in his mother's hand. He could barely make out the scrawling on the front, but recognized it immediately and he felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. As much as he tried, he couldn't speak, only a small strangled sound escaped his throat.

He began to back away stiffly towards the jeep as Rita spoke and her smile was quickly replaced by a look of concern.

“Robert. Are-are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost!” She inched forward, her arm still outstretched, the letter still in her hand.

“I don't...” Robert struggled for words. He had to know how long she had been keeping it from him, “When-when did it... come?”

“Oh, just a few days ago. Not long at all.”

His back finally met the door of the jeep with a soft thud and he slumped against it, his hair covering his face as his gaze slowly floated to the ground.

“Robert! Do you need to sit down? Y-you don't look good at all.”

“No-no. Please... just give that to me.” His voice was shaking and he held out his hand without looking up.

“You need to sit down, dear. Come inside and-”

“Mum, Christ! Just _please_ give me that letter!” _Why did everything have to be so difficult?_

His gaze quickly shot up and he snatched the envelope out of her hand as she backed away, letting out a small gasp of surprise. He fumbled with the door of the jeep and finally climbed in, his guitars sliding and loudly clunking against each other in the rear as he roared off wildly as if his very life depended on it, leaving his mother in a wake of exhaust and dust.

***       ***        ***

Robert sat on the edge of the bed, still out of breath, adrenaline still surging through his body from the drive back to his flat which was nothing short of harrowing. He was so anxious to read Simon’s response that the sudden, torrential downpour had no effect on diminishing his careening and swerving in and out of lanes down the motorway until he finally pulled up to the curb in front of his building and jerked the car to a halt.

Once safely inside, he could do nothing but stare wide-eyed in disbelief at the envelope that had become damp and wrinkled from his sweaty grip. His thumb slowly ran over the ink on the front and he finally peeled away a small corner of the flap with a shaking hand, running his finger underneath, taking care to leave the envelope as intact as possible.

He unfolded the sheets of paper and gazed at the salutation, “Dear Robert…” reading it over and over again, his eyes beginning to burn uncontrollably at the edges with tears. He already couldn’t go on.

It was the loud, unexpected banging on the door that startled him and his head snapped up as the letter dropped from his hands and fell to the floor. His heart began to pound at that sound, as he was suddenly ripped from his woeful trance now feeling almost as if he had been caught in the midst of some horrible crime. He scooped up the papers, hurriedly folded them and shoved them back into the envelope and he stood, his eyes darting to his pillow on the bed where he quickly slid it underneath.

His fingers parted the blinds and he peered out the window only to see Chris on his doorstep.

“Shit.” he muttered.

Chris pounded again more urgently, “Robert!” he called, “I know you’re there.”

Robert didn’t move.

“Stop playing games. I need to talk to you! Open the door!”

Robert knew the torture wouldn’t stop unless he relented. He leaned his head on the hard wood of the door and sighed, opening it gradually, still slumped behind it.

“There…" Robert muttered, "I opened the door. Now will you please _go away?_ ” and as he quickly moved to slam it in his face, Chris extended his arm, pushing it open against Robert’s weight until he could step inside.

“Robert?” He hesitated for a moment to fold up his umbrella, eventually chucking it on the floor after unsuccessfully trying to locate a resting place for it in the unfurnished space. He scanned the room perplexed, before a small voice answered from its hiding place behind him.

“Yes?”

“What the hell is going on?” Chris emitted a long sigh as he stood in the middle of the room waiting for Robert to make an appearance.

“Bill… Can you jus-just come back another time?” He still hadn’t emerged and hoped it would be enough of a hint that now was definitely _not_ a good time.

“Robert, I’ve been calling you for days. You haven’t answered. I called Simon…”

Robert winced.

“Well, he wasn’t much help. I had to finally contact Alex and Rita. What’s going on?”

Robert finally pushed the door shut and stood against the wall facing Chris in utter silence. He couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Look, I know you haven’t been feeling well lately and honestly, I’ve given up expecting certain things from you. All of that can wait, but, Christ…at least let me know what’s going on. At least let me try and help you deal with whatever it is you’re having issues with.”

The last thing Robert felt like admitting to Chris was that he attempted to kill himself, attempted to kill someone else – of which he had no recollection, at this point it was merely speculation - and was lovesick over his best male friend. There was no way he would discuss this with anyone, especially Chris. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Bill, I really don’t think this is the time for—“

“I know you don’t believe it, but I am here out of genuine concern. I hate to see what you’re doing to yourself.” He paused and shook his head, “I know about your suicide attempt. Alex told me.” He glared at Robert, clearly annoyed. Robert did look up at Chris now, shocked that his father actually spoke of what happened to Robert to someone else.

“And don’t think I don’t know what happened with the assault either.” He sniffed and continued, glaring at Robert, “I just cannot believe you didn’t call me! What the fuck is wrong with you!?! You just think you can go around beating on people?!”

Robert began to tremble.

“I-I…” Robert's stomach lurched as he unsuccessfully tried to speak.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?!” Chris face was beginning to turn red with frustration and his anger had finally surfaced.

“What-what would you like me to say?” Robert mumbled quietly with his gaze now directed at the floor. He wasn’t being smart, he really had no idea what he could possibly say. No words would change the fact that all of these events had unfortunately, taken place, and even worse, Robert could recall none of it.

“I really don’t know, Robert. Do you even remember what happened that night? When you showed up at Eric’s with the cricket bat?”

 _Who was Eric?_   Robert thought. He knew that if he asked, Chris would probably hit him. He wisely chose to remain silent.

“Yeah, right… Didn’t think so.” Chris huffed at Robert's silence, “Well, let me fill you in, eh? He was the bloke you hunted down and attempted to beat over the head. Thank God Lol was there and he got you out of there! He is the only one with any fucking sense!”

Robert was speechless and could do nothing but look down in confusion and dread.

“You could’ve been hauled away to jail.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “You know…” He continued, “at this point that might not be such a bad idea. What the fuck is it with you?...And Simon...”

Robert’s face snapped up at the sound of that name. What had Simon done? What was he saying?

“What’re you-?”

“Come off it, Robert. Simon told me how much you’ve been calling his flat at all hours… and then this Eric bloke, threatening him. He didn’t want to go to the police about it. Wanted to take care of it himself, but it seems like you beat him to it. Over what? Drugs?” He sighed long and shook his head again as he reached into his jacket pocket to take out a cigarette. “Are you both really that stupid? That bloke could have killed you! And why are you fighting Simon’s battles for him. He’s perfectly capable of defending himself and-"

“ _Bill_ ,” Robert quickly interjected, blurting out unintentionally and much too loudly, "I love him."

It was the last thing he ever wanted to admit to him, but his heart finally betrayed his mind and as he stood against the wall, the room felt as if it were spinning out of control. He choked and a sob of disgust and regret had quickly slipped out, realizing his mistake; he now felt completely exposed. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably as he shoved them into his trouser pockets and his eyes traveled to the door and at that moment, he was more than ready to make his escape.

 


	31. A Prayer For Something Better

Chris' hand came up to grab the cigarette before it fell from his open mouth and only the sound of the rain falling outside could be heard as both of them shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Robert raised his arm on the wall and buried his face in it. He knew he couldn't leave now. He had nowhere else to go. He had no choice but to stay.

Chris quickly scanned the room for a chair and discovering there was none, slowly plopped onto the floor as Robert slid down the wall limply, his body finally settling on the cold floor across from him.

Robert’s head fell back and he exhaled long and hard. It was almost as if that last admission had knocked the wind out of him.

“Robert-”

“Bill, please…” Robert clenched his eyes shut as his voice trailed off. He finally said just what he thought he'd never divulge to another soul and although he knew he owed Chris more, he just couldn't. He was so tired of it all.

“I-I don’t know what to say…” Chris hesitated. Robert’s sudden admission caught him off guard and his expression changed at first to one of shock, then he chuckled sadly, shaking his head slowly, “But now that I think about it, I don’t know how I could have missed it. Even Rita alluded to it and I hadn’t the faintest idea of what she was on about at the time.” He was just muttering aloud to no one in particular, as if Robert wasn't even there. Chris stared intently at the floor and took a drag of his cigarette.

His parents knew. _Just fucking lovely_ , Robert thought. He had no idea as to just how indiscreet he really was and that sickened him. He needed so many drinks right now, but there was nothing. Regretfully, what little booze he brought with him since the move was long gone.

“Bill?” Robert asked timidly, his eyes still closed, "Can I have a fag?” It certainly wasn't a drink, but it was better than nothing.

Chris slid his pack and the lighter across the floor and Robert took out the cigarette, lit it and inhaled long and deep, almost choking on it. It had been a while.

“Robert, you do know that no one else needs to know about this.” Chris stated, finally looking up at him as if he'd snapped out of it.

“Seems like everyone already does.” Robert stated flatly as if in a daze. “You, Rita… _Alex_ …” Robert winced as his father’s name left his lips. _Everyone but Simon_ , he almost said aloud, but stopped before he opened his mouth.

He mistakenly thought a weight would have been lifted, but his chest and his conscience felt just as tired and heavy as before. Robert had come to terms with how he felt at last, but the one person he loved and had deserved to hear those words had no idea and it was the piece that had been missing all along. Even in his letters written months before, he admitted to all the wrong and pain he had caused, apologizing profusely, begging forgiveness, but foolishly, selfishly neglecting to say those words Simon needed to hear.

Chris continued, “Well, none of the others know.”

Robert wasn’t so sure about that, especially Lol, but it didn’t matter.“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Robert flicked the ashes on the floor and brushed them away with his hand. After everything that happened already, he truly meant that.

His thoughts quickly began to turn back to Simon's letter he was so eager to read, now tucked under his pillow… waiting for him and his mind suddenly clouded over with darkness. What if Simon's words weren’t of forgiveness or love? What if that letter contained nothing but venomous hate? It would be the final blow. It would simply kill him. He couldn’t risk it - at least not sober.

“Fuck. I need a drink.” Robert finally said aloud. He didn’t care if Chris chose to accompany him or not, at this point he had to leave.

“Yeah, me too.” Chris lit another cigarette, reached for his umbrella and slowly stood.

Robert couldn’t remember the last time he actually got drunk with someone else – or even spoke to someone else other than grunting a response, and he suddenly felt reassured, actually relieved that it was Chris he would be drinking with. At least there would be a distraction and perhaps he would be safe from his own horrible thoughts, for now.

***       ***       ***

Robert kept his gaze on the bar front of him. He felt so out of place and thought that maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all and he chuckled wearily, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the sight of the Friday afternoon revelers. He raised the pint glass to his mouth and the amber lager cascaded down his throat. It was almost soothing and the motion of bringing the glass up to his lips to drink was just the distraction he needed; anything to keep from speaking.

Chris sat beside him, chain-smoking and occasionally taking a sip of beer, also remaining silent until his voice unexpectedly cut through the silence.

“So…”

There was a long pause as if he was waiting. _Waiting for what?_ Robert thought. There was nothing more he could possibly say to Chris that would outdo his unplanned confession voiced nearly an hour earlier.

“Have you heard from him?” Chris asked.

“From whom?” Robert retorted flatly.

“ _Simon_.” Chris glowered at Robert, “Who the fuck do you think?”

Robert lied, "No.” He slumped over, his quiet reply barely audible above the din. He didn’t want to open his mouth again and hated the fact that wanting to know had gotten the better of him, “Have… have you?”

“Yeah, we’ve been in touch off and on throughout the year. Heard he wasn’t doing so well and… so I called him.” Chris took a drag from his cigarette and glared at Robert once again.

It was then that Robert felt the weight of Chris’ glare and squirmed, “I didn’t—didn’t know that he had… had been ill.” It was the truth, and now he was racked with guilt over not being available, of essentially vanishing at such a crucial time and failing Simon when he clearly needed someone the most.

“Well, I figured as much. You basically disappeared without a trace."

Robert knew he not only failed Simon, but almost everyone else in his life. He handled everything wrong and none of his usual strength to argue or defend himself against Chris’ harsh stares and words could materialize. He could do nothing but twirl the glass between his palms on the bar.

Robert cleared his throat, “What did he… How is he?”

“Well, he’s over all that mess, finally… the junk. He’s doing much better.”

Robert felt relief at Chris’ words. He had fretted over the fact that out of all of it, why Simon had chosen to start up with _that_ drug was beyond him. Sadly, most people they both knew had never come out of its spell. And he had spent nights lying awake, hoping that Simon had enough self-respect and strength to rid himself of that disturbing habit. _Right. Who am I to talk_?  Robert thought. Admittedly, his cocaine use had grown into legendary proportions these days.

Apparently, according to Chris and from what Robert had witnessed first-hand, Simon proved to be stronger than what Robert had thought. He had become self-sufficient, had stopped using, and most of all hadn’t given up on his passion which was the music, no matter how dreadful Robert really thought his band was.

Simon had effectively moved on, which was more than Robert could say for himself.

“What did you—what did he say when… when you spoke to him last?” Robert was struggling. He could feel his chest tightening at his own curiosity. He had never spoke of his long lost friend since The Cure’s dissolution and the parting of ways to anyone, only briefly to Simon’s mother.  He waited, holding his breath in anticipation of Chris’ answer.

“He called me a while ago. The day you ended up in hospital. He asked about you.”

Robert’s eyes snapped up at those surprising words. He thought that surely he would be the last person in the world that Simon would ask about, would show concern for... He then suddenly remembered Rita’s account of spotting him getting into the lift on the same unit in the hospital that very same day and Robert’s heart fluttered at the possibility of Simon actually being there by his bedside.

He took a deep breath, “Do…” He could barely speak and exhaled slowly, he had to control himself, “Did you tell him… where I was?”

“’Course I did. I came to see you too, you know.”

His heart now felt as if it would burst. It truly happened: Simon came to see him. All Robert could do was stare at Chris slack-jawed. He was dumbfounded.

“I-I didn’t see… I didn’t know that both of you were there.” And after a long moment, “Thank you.” He said quietly, still in shock.

“You were pretty much out of it on pain meds…” Chris eyed Robert now and his expression was almost a knowing grimace, “Not too different from the night before… so I’m told.”

Robert quickly averted his eyes back down to the glass still in between his palms on the bar while that familiar feeling of worriment that had occupied the corners of his mind all too often began to spread.

Chris stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, “I really don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.” He sighed long and hard, “Or maybe you will.” His voice lowered almost to a mumble, “Fuck knows… I don’t care. I don’t know who you are anymore, honestly…” He took a long drink from his glass and lit another, “Well…”

Robert didn’t know who he was anymore either and he braced himself for the bitter pill he would be forced to swallow as Chris slowly began to lift the veil of mystery surrounding the events of that horrible night that had plagued his mind for far too long.

“Apparently, you were totally out of your head already when you rang Lol and asked him to drive to Eric’s to score some coke that night. As far as Lol knew, that was the only thing on the agenda for that evening.” Chris shifted in his seat and kept his eyes on Robert as he continued.

“Anyway, Lol said he got out of the car and was being let inside and that’s when you came barging in behind him, waving a cricket bat like some lunatic.”

Robert picked up his glass and drank, keeping his eyes shut. He didn’t want to picture the scenario, but his imagination was running through the worst of what must have occurred, almost as if the scene was a bad movie on some continuous loop in his mind. The worst of it all was that he was in no position to protest to what was being said as he had no recollection of those sordid events that had taken place after his despicable display to Simon hours before on the phone.

That familiar twinge of worry now turned into utter dread as Chris continued, “There was no reasoning with you. It was like you just snapped and started beating on Eric. Lol said it took himself and another bloke to pull you off…” He stopped and Robert could feel his stare, but he didn’t attempt to look up.

 _Eric_. That coarse voice that Robert witnessed _commanding_ Simon that night in the bathroom stall, shamelessly using Simon, the vice-like grip on Robert’s arms, that _tongue_ extending out to lick his face… _that bloke_ , the enabler, now finally had a name.

“...Moments later, you basically just collapsed right there.” Chris shook his head, “Too wasted by that point, I suppose.” Chris shook his head again, “And that’s when the other bloke grabbed the bat and started beating on the both of you…” He sighed, “Then Simon arrived and—“

“ _What???!!!”_ Robert’s eyes shot up to Chris’ in disbelief. Simon once again came to his rescue and what had Robert ever done to repay him? He’d caused nothing but heartache. “Why did-?”

“Fuck if I know, Robert! Perhaps he had ESP and knew you were going there with a moronic plan to try and beat the shit out of somebody??!! I don’t know… but thank God he showed. You and Lol couldn’t fight your way out of—fuck… What’s the use?!” Chris leaned in and slid his pint glass forward on the bar.

Robert’s jealous rage had reared its ugly head once again and he downed the rest of his beer, finally ordering a double shot of whiskey. He would need many, many more, he concluded.

Horrified, he stiffly asked, “What happened… after?”

“You really want me to continue with this fucking bullshit, Robert?!”

There was no answer, only the sound of Robert’s lowball glass being set down on the bar.

“Fine.” Chris huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was recruited to re-enact an evening chock full of Robert’s stupidity.

“Simon and Lol managed to fend off the other bloke, whoever he was. They then grabbed the bat, thank God they had enough sense to remember that, dragged you out of there and dumped you off at Severin’s.” Chris took in a deep breath and exhaled, relieved that it he was now done explaining.

“Wh—why Severin’s?”

“Because, you git… he was right down the street and it was the closest place where you could sleep it off.” Chris sat back in his seat and folded his arms, still glaring at Robert, “…And no, Severin had nothing to do with your idiocy. He merely let you in to sleep.”

Robert already knew that as Steve would never let himself become involved in such ridiculously petty affairs.

“What about the police?” Robert asked quietly.

“Nobody called them, thank Christ. Do you really think anyone else in the area wanted to get mixed up in this stupid shit?!”

Normally, Robert wouldn’t let that remark go without some sort of retort, but he knew Chris was right. He was so very stupid and couldn’t even believe that he himself was the ringleader for such absurdity.

“Is he… is Simon still with Matty? In London?”

“Dunno…” Chris paused, “Maybe you should fucking ask him yourself, Robert.”

Robert said nothing.

“What you do has never been any of my business, but, Christ!… You two almost wind up killing each other on tour, you could have ended up in jail for assault, and then you almost kill yourself in a botched suicide attempt - and you don’t want me to be concerned!” Chris sighed, "And I _am_ going to be a bit selfish right now and ask: what about The Cure? What about me, Robert? I’ve got to make a living too, you know. I’d like to know what the fuck is going on? Are you finished with all of this music business?” Chris’ voice was rising with agitation and he blew a thick plume of smoke towards Robert as he exhaled, “I think you owe me an answer here.”

Robert could feel his eyes becoming wet beyond his control. He felt utterly helpless. He never wanted The Cure to stop. It was never his plan. Of course, he never really had a plan, but he never intended for all of _this_ to happen.

“No, I-I’m still… The Cure will continue. I just need some time, is all.” Robert was only fooling himself. It would never be right without Simon. He scarcely got through the simple task of existing on a day to day basis without thinking about him constantly. How could he possibly think about The Cure? It was maddening.

“Well, how much longer? You haven’t done anything for months, except drugs and narrowly avoid death.” Chris sighed hopelessly again and looked up at the ceiling, “I mean, if all of this has been over Simon then—“

“No.” Robert cut him off. It was all because of himself and his own brainless decisions. It was never anything that Simon had done.

Robert sat motionless and his gaze was empty as his eyes stared straight ahead at nothing. He couldn’t tell Chris that so long ago Simon had once professed his love to Robert, but that was gone; ruined by his selfishness and jealousy. Now Simon wanted no parts of him and every move he made to contact him for forgiveness was fruitless and he knew that no matter how hard he tried to occupy his mind - his life - with alternatives, he could never move forward. It was almost as if he remained in limbo, a ghastly hell from which he couldn’t escape.

Except… _Simon’s letter_. His sudden remembrance of that salutation of hope… _Dear Robert_ … It jolted him out of his seat and he quickly downed the last of his whiskey, depositing the glass and random cash on the bar.

“I’ve got to go.” Robert muttered.

“Wait!” Chris head shot up and his eyes widened, “Where are you going now?”

“Home…” He hoped his escape from purgatory was waiting for him stuffed in that envelope under his pillow.

“Hang on. Wait a minute Robert.”

“It’s—it’s… I’ll call you... when I get myself sorted.”

***       ***        ***

Robert reclined back on the bed and propped himself up on the pillows holding the pages up in his trembling hands. As he began to absorb Simon’s words so haphazardly scrawled on the thin white paper, his heart began to beat wildly in his chest. Each paragraph he read filled his entire being with anticipation for what would come next and as he continued on, the world around him dissolved away until only the voice of Simon could be heard reciting that letter in Robert’s head.

The end came all too soon and Robert's eyes darted back to the beginning of the first page, only to read it all over again. He couldn't stop.

Finally, that beautiful closing… It was something he'd always dreamed of, but never thought would be waiting for him at the very end.

"Love, Simon." And Robert's finger slowly traced over the signature in black ink on the bottom of the page. The sweetest words...

Robert felt such an indescribable happiness that he simply couldn’t hold back from saying Simon's name quietly into the empty room. It was a name he had said for too long with anxiety, anger, or rage and he now couldn’t help but pronounce that name with such excitement, such joy that his eyes welled up uncontrollably.

“ _Simon…_ ” He uttered once again, his lips curling up in a dreamy grin as the tears began to slide down his cheeks.

He had agreed to talk to Robert at last, although there was no hard and fast commitment to that agreement. Simon had written only… " _Soon_ " and Robert had practically shouted out loud alone in his room at reading that last paragraph. He wouldn’t rush things, he knew he had to proceed with caution. This time it had to be right. It had to be perfect.

Robert sprung up quickly from the bed and loped into the kitchen where he picked up the postcard he so carelessly threw on the counter the day he moved into the flat months ago. It hadn’t been touched since and he blew the dust off of it and rummaged around in the drawer below for a pen and a stamp. He didn't even have to think twice about what he would add to the existing text, “I miss you. Please call me.” Beside it his telephone number hurriedly scribbled sideways, and finally after a long hesitation, “Love, Robert."

Robert stared at his words that were written only for Simon, and knew they would be clear for all to see before applying the stamp to the postcard, but it no longer mattered. He owed Simon those words... and so much more.


	32. A Prayer For Something Better

The shrill sound of the phone ringing on the floor at his bedside startled him awake. Robert promptly rolled onto his stomach, pulled the bedspread up over himself and piled the pillows on top of his head, hoping that they would somehow muffle the continuous, unbearable noise that had so crudely invaded his deep slumber.

It was a low, drawn out groan, “Nooo…” The vodka he’d drank the night before at the pub with Steve had only served to make the blaring resonating throughout his head seem even more obnoxious.

It stopped abruptly, in mid-ring for a few blissful moments, only to begin again, much to Robert’s horror.

“Shit. please!” He muttered. It couldn’t have been the movers calling to drop off the new furniture. _N_ o _one in their right fucking mind could possibly begin work this early,_ Robert thought dully. He finally turned over, reached down and fumbled for the receiver, roughly whining to the party on the other end, “What is it?!” His voice muffled by the mound of pillows.

There was a small, nervous sigh on the other end and then, “Well, that’s no way to say hello, is it?” Followed by a breathy chuckle.

Robert immediately shot up in bed at the sound of that voice and instantly regretted his sudden movement - his head was swimming.

“I-I, No, I…” Robert still had to be asleep, he had to be dreaming.

Robert had been waiting for weeks, hoping that Simon would be true to his word. It was the one phone call he'd been waiting for every day, going over in his mind just how he would handle it and now that moment was finally here and Robert could barely speak, barely breathe.

Simon’s voice was so small and quiet, almost a whisper, “Hello?” He asked after a lengthy silence, not quite sure if Robert was still on the line.

Robert cleared his dry throat, “H-hello…” and lethargically rubbed his eyes as so many thoughts suddenly flooded his mind, but he was at a loss for just how he should string his words together. It was simply impossible to articulate what he was feeling at that moment.

All he could add was a skittish, “Wh-what time is it?” _So fucking brilliant_ , Robert thought disgusted with himself and covered his eyes with his free hand.

“Half past eleven.”

“Eleven... thirty?” Robert mouthed vaguely, “In-in the morning?” He scanned the room, finally noticing the daylight seeping through the blinds.

“Yep.” Robert could almost see Simon grinning on the other end at Robert’s disoriented thoughts, “Late night, then?” Simon asked. Robert could hear him take a drag of his cigarette.

“Uh, yeah…I suppose so.” A small laugh left his throat and he leaned against the headboard. He had to shake himself out of his fog. He had to pull himself together.

“Did-Do you have time to talk?” Simon asked, sounding so nervous, so shy it almost made Robert blush.

“I do. Yes.” Robert replied. He could barely contain himself.

“Can we meet someplace? How about the King’s Head? Near me?”

“Uh, sure. Yes.” Robert paused. He couldn't even remember how to get there, but he would find it, “When?”

“Half past one sound good?”

“Yes.” Robert’s cheeks were burning. He had no idea what he was going to do with himself before then.

“Right. See you then...” Simon hung up after a long pause and Robert clumsily placed the receiver back onto the cradle and sank back down into the pillows.

“Shit.” Robert muttered. He was pleasantly shocked at Simon's unexpected phone call, but his floundering was absolutely pitiful. He couldn’t have presented himself more pathetically. _So_ _much for making a splash after all this bloody time,_ he thought.

He bolted out of bed, and winced immediately; his head not quite yet back from last night’s binge, and padded to the bathroom. He rummaged through the small cabinet and retrieved his electric razor and cologne. Although he had never been that meticulous regarding his appearance, he was determined to make up somehow for his less than sterling attempt at conversation over the phone.

He showered and tidied himself up and his eyes began to brighten ever so slightly; a sign his recovery from last evening's libations had started to kick in. He gave a tousle to his mane, applied eyeliner and then stood before his closet, eyeing his disappointingly sparse wardrobe. This time it would take more than his customary practice of simply pulling articles absentmindedly off of hangers or shelves for the mere purpose of covering his body. This time he selected his attire with much deliberation, taking care to ensure that each article was clean and only minimally rumpled and as he briefly scanned himself in the mirror one last time, he chuckled aloud and shook his head in disbelief at his actions. All of this anxiousness and _preparing_... It was a vaguely familiar feeling, yet it seemed so long ago since he cared to even make any sort of effort.

Now all that was needed was a surge of energy, “Coffee…” he muttered. And as he grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter the phone rang, causing his train of thought to suddenly derail.

“Fucking, blasted thing!” he called out. As he sprinted to the bedroom he seriously thought about throwing the intruding device straight through the window.

“Hello?!” Robert blurted into the receiver.

“Robert…” It was Chris.

“Shit. I was just leaving.” Robert hoped his impatience and annoyance was clear, “Can I call you back later?”

“No, listen… It-it's Simon.” Chris voice sounded oddly restrained. Robert didn't know what to make of it, but he clearly had no time for small talk.

“What about him?” Robert asked.

"There's been some... trouble."

"Bill, what's?-"

“He's," Chris' voice was on the verge of wavering, "He's in hospital."

Robert froze, “ _What???!!!"_


	33. A Prayer For Something Better

The elderly couple backed away, alarmed at the mere sight of Robert getting into the lift with them. He glanced briefly in their direction, oblivious to their stares at his anything but conventional appearance. Breathless from the mad dash into the building, he slumped against the wall and pushed the button.

The doors couldn’t close fast enough and he frantically began to push the same button repeatedly, "Bloody hell! Fucking close!" He blurted out.

They finally jerked shut and the other two passengers remained silent, holding their breath until the doors jerked open once again and Robert shot out and while glancing at the number scribbled in the palm of his hand, raced down the hall, eventually finding himself standing in front of the closed door of Simon’s room.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. He couldn’t let his flustered state be detected, especially by Simon. Once his breathing resumed to near normalcy he gently pushed the door ajar. As Robert entered the room, Simon slowly turned his head toward the sound of his quiet footsteps and what Robert saw immediately made his jaw drop. He could only hope Simon didn't notice him recoil in astonishment, but his long defeated sigh at Robert standing silent and motionless told him otherwise.

As Robert continued to stand stiffly before the bed, he was sure he was mistaken. It couldn't have been Simon lying there. His once solid yet lithe body now looked limp and lifeless and Robert's eyes didn't know where to look next as he tried to take in the now distorted sight in front of him.

Simon's face, that masculine yet beautiful face was now bruised bloodied and those deep dark eyes that had always been so warm and vibrant, now looked dull and utterly helpless, with one black and blue. Those muscular yet graceful arms that Robert had so admired were bruised, not only from the IV protruding from one of them, but the evidence of a beating was clearly visible on both. Robert couldn't look at that battered form any longer and his gaze fell hopelessly to the floor as the sting of tears threatened to spill over. He brought his hand up to his eyes and quickly wiped them. He had to pull himself together, if not for himself at least for Simon.

After a long speechless moment, Robert slowly looked up, his gaze meeting Simon's and he finally opened his mouth, “Simon…” Robert's whisper was wavering and his eyes welled up again, but he had to continue. He had to know who could have committed such a horrific and barbaric act against the man he loved, but then the conversation he had with Chris the day before slowly crept back into his mind. His face was now hot and his rage began to boil.

 _“Who?”_   Robert asked. It was the only word Robert could manage to squeak out. His assumption had to be confirmed.

Not a word fell from Simon's lips and as his eyes clenched tightly shut he slowly turned his head away and took in a deep, shaking breath.

Simon's reaction was all the answer he needed.

Robert’s head quickly filled with nothing but murderous thoughts, picturing the after effects of his wrath on the one person evil enough to commit such a heartless act on the gentle soul that now lay powerless beside him. Simon turned his face to Robert, his eyes wide and pained and Robert felt fingers brush his hand that was now settled on the bed so close. Robert almost pulled back at that fleeting sensation, not certain if it was real and as his eyes locked onto Simon’s, his own hand had reciprocated, gently reaching out and alighting onto Simon’s. Their silent gaze at one another was unceasing, their breath held and Robert felt Simon’s hand respond to his hesitant touch, slowly wrapping his warm hand around his, their fingers now loosely entwined.

Simon licked his swollen lips, “Robert, I…” He sighed and Robert could see tears begin to dampen and spill over, running into his hair as he spoke, “Don’t…” And he slowly shook his head. It was almost as if Simon realized what Robert had been contemplating all the while as he stood over him.

“Simon, you don’t-“ He was cut off by the door opening.

“Simon?” Peg spoke quietly and entered the room, taking a step back, surprised at his visitor. “Oh… Hello, Robert.” Her smile was affected and sad and Robert watched as her eyes ticked down to their hands clasped together on the bed. He didn’t pull back. He knew that after everything he had revealed to her she understood.

She cleared her throat and looked away, her gaze falling on her sons face, “Here, love… I brought you some things from your flat.” She put the plastic bag down on the chair closest to the bed and glanced back at Robert, “Robert, your mum’s been trying to call you to tell you what's happened. You may want to give her a ring.”

“Yeah, thanks Peg.” He mumbled, looked down at Simon’s hand, gave it a slight squeeze, then released it. “I’ll be back. I’ve got to make a phone call.”

“Robert, no—“ Simon attempted firmness in his tone, but his voice was shaking. He knew Robert had no intentions of calling his mother as there was a phone right next to the bed. He knew Robert wouldn’t be back. He knew no matter how much he pleaded, he couldn’t change his mind.

“Be right back.” Robert’s voice was faint and his expression unusually stoic. He couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them and he turned on his heel toward the door.

***          ***         ***

“Well, I can arrange that…” It was one of Gary’s acquaintances that Robert had contacted over the phone. He knew that he would never succeed in his scheme if he arranged something with anyone associated too closely with the lot of them; especially Simon, Eric's most frequent customer.

Robert insisted he would meet Gary’s counterpart outside of the usual place, but of course Robert had other intentions. The club was perfect. It was cavernous and he knew well enough from experience that it was also loud enough to carry out any debauched activities without being noticed. But it was still far too early. He needed to muster up enough liquid courage and he would do just that at the pub. He grabbed his keys from the bed and as he passed the kitchen doorway he pulled the drawer below the counter open, revealing a small knife in its thick, black leather sheath lying amidst random notes and pens at the bottom. He slid it into his inside jacket pocket and opened the front door.

***           ***           ***

Robert’s stomach was in his throat as he sat in the far corner and watched as the enemy entered the club at last and his hands clenched around his bottle of beer as he sat at the table. It was all he could do to keep from propelling himself up and over the bar and plunging the sharp blade into the tall figure standing there, a smug expression spreading across his face, so blissfully unaware of his fate.

Eric began moving toward the direction of the men’s toilet, stopping along the way to share pleasantries with a few anonymous faces and Robert shot up from his seat, swaying nonetheless from the abundance of whiskey and beer consumed throughout the evening and he made his way as covertly as he could, to that very same toilet. There he would lay in wait of his unassuming target.

No sooner did he latch the stall door shut, he then heard the sound of footsteps shuffling towards the urinal. Robert could hear nothing now but his own rapid heartbeat, pulsing in his ears. He sucked as much air into his lungs as he could and shut his eyes for a long moment, his trembling hand hesitating, then moving to the inside of his jacket to finally remove the knife from its sheath. He gripped it firm in his fist and unlatched the stall door as quietly as possible, peering through the crack at the all too familiar figure leaning against the porcelain fixture. Robert paused in an effort to gather his strength and he inched the door open more, taking another deep breath. But even with the knife in his hand, Robert’s feet simply could not move forward. His plan had been thwarted by his own reticence and fear.

For once, he had wisely come to his senses.

Eric was quickly finishing up and he pulled the door to the men’s room open and exited. It was the chance Robert had to depart, hopefully just as covertly as he had entered. He put the knife back in the sheath inside his jacket, waited a moment longer and then left the room. As he clumsily brushed past a throng of club-goers in the hallway just outside of the restroom it was then that he heard that voice, jolting him from his thoughts.

_“Hey!!...”_

He had been discovered.

It was that harsh voice he had heard only a handful of times, but was one he could never forget. Robert cringed and stopped in his tracks just for a moment, but it was a moment too long and he immediately heard the sounds of those footsteps once again, this time rapidly approaching.

“ _Oi!!_ You little fucker!!”

Robert resumed his escape as swiftly as his legs would carry him, buffeting his way through the crowd toward the back exit and throwing the doors open.

"Yeah, that’s right…” Eric called, his voice following Robert close behind. Laughing almost maniacally at him now, _“You better fucking run. You little shit!!_ "

Robert could only think of carrying his body forward and he broke out into a blundering run with those heavy footsteps still fast approaching behind him. He slipped into the alleyway, hoping to throw off his pursuer but it was no use and he felt that vice-like grip just as he rounded the corner, clutching at his jacket and shirt, tearing them as he pulled Robert back.

Robert shouted, “ _No!!_ What the fuck!” He struggled and floundered to free himself.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going!!” Eric roared into the back of Robert’s head, his face practically buried in his hair as he continued to pull him back against his body and his arm quickly came up, wrapping around Robert's neck and shoulders tightly, making him gasp. Robert tried to reach the knife hidden in his jacket, but was unable to gain access as his arms could only flail desperately. Eventually, his fists began to punch, but his blows had little effect on the man who now held him captive.

“Let me go you fucker!!” He writhed, “Let me… go!!! _”_ Robert was so breathless and disoriented he couldn’t even scream and he suddenly regretted all the drinks he had earlier - they weren’t helping like he had hoped.

They continued to wrestle pointlessly, Robert kicking at Eric’s shins behind him in an effort to free himself and was abruptly knocked backwards against the brick wall. He opened his mouth and finally managed to shout, “No! Don’t you!-”

And at that moment he felt the blow to his stomach, doubling him over. Eric’s laughter was growing more evil and crazed as his fists continued to land, clipping his head sharply and pummeling his back and sides. Robert could barely stand any longer, but he couldn’t collapse now. He couldn’t possibly let him win.

“No, please!” His protest not nearly as strong as it should have been.

The voice taunted evilly, now out of breath, “What was that???!!! Yeah, I know what you want…” And that low growl trailing off made Robert shudder breathlessly with dread,“… What you’re going to get. _You fucking_ …” Another blow made it Robert’s head and he whimpered, still doubled over from the pain, his own arms wrapped tightly around his body, clutching his sides. Seconds later he felt strong, broad hands roughly raise him up and he was now face to face with his tormentor.

Before Robert could even focus his bleary, tearful eyes on that repulsive figure overpowering him, he was forcibly thrown into the wall face first and his body hit the brick with a loud thud, knocking what was left of his breath out of him. As his aching chest heaved for air, he heard the sound of a zipper being harshly pulled down and barely a second later his own trousers being brutally yanked over his hips and down his thighs.

He still couldn’t catch his breath and he felt hands on his hips, roughly pulling him back as he struggled, exhausted, but it was pointless - the unexpected stab of pain was excruciating as Robert felt him suddenly invade, thrusting his cock into his body savagely, sending him crashing into the wall in front of him.

 _“No!!! Stop!!!”_   Robert screamed in agony and tried to move away, but Eric’s full weight was on top of him now, pinning him against the wall as he continued his painful and humiliating assault. Robert could no longer stand on his own as Eric continued to pound into him, holding his limp body upright, his face buried in Robert’s hair, panting coarsely and grunting with each violating thrust as Robert sobbed and whimpered helplessly, desperately pleading for it all to stop.

… Robert didn’t know where he was, who he was or what was happening anymore and he simply gave up, falling oddly silent as he continued to be smashed into the wall and it felt like an eternity until he heard the man behind him again... the sound of him getting close. Robert thought he would vomit, and his body shuddered as he gagged at those nauseating sounds that he knew he would never forget.

The noises began to build quickly, until finally culminating into a loud snarl as he came inside of Robert, recovering almost instantly and abruptly loosening his grip on Robert’s body, letting him slip lifelessly to the ground.


	34. A Prayer For Something Better

He kept his eyes closed as the sound of rain beginning to fall heavily reached his ears and moments later, the sound of harsh breathing above him that was not his own and he remained on the ground in a heap, his face down on the filthy cobblestone where he was crudely deposited minutes earlier. He winced, trying to hold back an audible groan as the agonizing pain he was feeling throughout his entire body brought him back to his unfortunate reality. Robert’s chest was aching and a sharp, knife-like sting pulsed as he attempted to take in a deep breath and regretted his action immediately as the smell of dirt, rain and something else, something putrid, filled his nostrils. Robert opened his eyes momentarily and his body convulsed with sobs until finally retching on the wall in front of him as the stench of the man that violated him lingered on his body, in the air…

There was shuffling above him and then silence, followed by yet another sharp, sudden pain directly aimed at his side as a boot-clad foot met Robert’s ribs hard, causing him to whimper loudly at that almost paralyzing blow and after a moment, those same boot clad feet quickly vanished into the night as the rain continued, soaking Robert as he propped himself up against the wall feebly amidst his own vomit and grime of the alleyway. As his vision was obscured by the haze of water that fell from the sky, he couldn’t help but hear voices nearby, their tones rising, becoming more exasperated as he sat and listened.

Their volume continued to intensify and Robert attempted to stand slowly, his head reeling, his body cold and soaked. Still delirious, he stumbled along with arm outstretched, feeling his way until he made it to the end of the wall and peered out onto the street where his eyes fell on that much too familiar figure now facing another unknown face. Robert’s stomach turned and he felt ready to retch again at the sight of his molester, remembering how he hissed and grunted in his ear as he pounded away inside of him. He quickly averted his eyes to his feet, trying to shake that torturous humiliation, when a car quickly approached and skidded to a stop, the passengers of which exited and began to close in on Robert’s nemesis.

All he could make out in the dimly lit street was the sight of arms flailing and bodies thudding against the car as voices were now shouting loudly and the sounds of punches soon followed. Robert was thankful for the darkness of the alleyway and was careful enough to stay hidden, barely moving in the shadows as the melee unfolded in front of him. Suddenly glass being shattered rang out into the night along with screaming and more punching and more glass shattering as the battle escalated, quickly moving out into the street. At this point, Robert remained plastered up against the wall, eager to make his escape without being seen, without the very sight of him provoking his enemy once again, but instead he moaned in pain as he shifted on his feet. In his condition, he had no choice but to wait it out, and hoped that someone nearby had enough sense to call the police to finally put an end to this tawdry ordeal.

His hope soon materialized as the siren sounding off in the distance grew rapidly closer and moments later, a police car and its flashing lights came into view, halting abruptly in front of the small crowd that had now enveloped it, mixing in the violence. After several long minutes of scuffling and noise, Robert could hear that menacing, unforgettable voice protesting loudly as he along with a few other accomplices were quickly whisked away in the back of a police car. The crowd gradually dispersed and Robert watched intently as the car disappeared down the street, and as its lights still flashed and eventually faded from view, it was only then that he attempted to move, daring to breathe out a shaking sigh of relief.

***        ***         ***

The pounding on the door was relentless and Robert shifted in his bed wondering why on earth the phone was ringing when he specifically remembered yanking the cord from the wall days before, or was it weeks ago?

The pounding continued and it was then that Robert realized the intrusion wasn’t coming from the phone at all, it was at his front door.

“ _Go away!”_ He bellowed.

“Robert! For Christ's sake! Open up!” It was Gary.

Robert didn’t move.

“If you don’t open up, I’ll be forced to call your Mum! I mean it, Robert!"

It wouldn't be the first time.

 _"Fuck..."_ It was a desperate, weary sob.

 _Not Rita_ , Robert thought. He knew that she was the one person who would have no problem barging in and laying on the guilt for the sole purpose of making his life even more of a hell then it already was. He couldn't possibly live through that now.

He moaned and threw the covers off of his body in one swift motion and sat on the edge of the bed momentarily, his head dropping slowly into his hands. As he stood up he swayed backwards and struggled to gain his balance, his body not accustomed to the immediate effect of gravity as he hadn’t ventured from his bed for days. Mumbling bits of expletives, he reluctantly padded to the front room, the bottoms of his feet feeling strangely numb at the sensation of finally placing them down on a hard surface.

The door slowly creaked open, “What???” Robert coughed, “What the fuck do you want?” He asked annoyed.

Gary took a sudden step back. He wasn't prepared for what he saw and as the sourness of body odor and a general staleness wafted through the open doorway and permeated the air, he could do nothing but glare at this bleary-eyed stranger before him.

Robert stood clad only in his shorts and a huge, floppy torn t-shirt and leaned against the door, appearing to hang on to it for support. His hair looked uncharacteristically grimy, he hadn’t shaved and his face was puffy from lying in bed for what looked like days, maybe even weeks. And although he kept his faraway gaze fixed defiantly on the ground, Gary could clearly see his bloodshot, swollen eyes crusted with sleep and stains of tears dried on his cheeks.

The two of them stood in silence until Robert finally stated frigidly, “Goodbye, Gary.” And the door began to slam shut in his face.

“No! Wait!” Gary pushed the door back and Robert sighed hopelessly. He no longer had the strength to fight.

He plodded back to his bedroom, longing to seek the refuge of his bed once again, not caring who followed him and he crawled onto the mattress, burying himself under the bedding as Gary spoke.

“Robert, I wanted to…” He wasn’t even sure if Robert was listening, but he continued talking to the slowly shifting lump before him, “Simon was, um, asking about you…”

The mound under the covers suddenly stopped and Gary could hear what sounded like a pained, muffled sob.

He dared to continue, “He-he wanted to know how you were doing.”

There was nothing but silence at Gary’s statement. Robert couldn’t move.

“He’s tried calling you.” Gary’s voice dropped, “Well, everyone has really…” and his eyes ticked down to the telephone cord that was lying uselessly unplugged on the floor amidst the growing pile of trash in the corner of the room.

“He’s at the pub up the street.” Gary sighed and shook his head and stood at the foot of Robert’s bed, waiting for any reaction from the unmoving body under the pile of haphazardly thrown sheets and blankets, but there was nothing. He kicked the bed, moving the mattress and Robert’s body shifted only slightly at that disturbance.

After a long pause a half-hearted mumble reverberated from the under the bedding, “…Fuck out of here…” was all Robert could manage.

Gary shook the bed again with his foot to no avail, “None of my bloody business, Robert, but maybe it’ll do you some good to get the hell out of here for a change.”

If there had been an axe available Robert would have thrown it right at his head. He just wanted to be left alone. _How can someone make not wanting to be bothered any more fucking obvious_? Robert thought.

***        ***        ***

He listlessly pulled the pub door open and stepped inside. It was a Sunday and at the time of day when Robert would have still been sleeping, not standing in a near empty pub with sunlight blazing through the windows. It almost made him cower and he kept his sunglasses on, preferring to block out not only the daylight, but the entire universe.

He briefly scanned the row of tables along the front and side walls, but there was no sign of Simon.

"Fucking Gary..." He muttered, almost chuckling out loud for actually being naive enough to believe him.

Deciding to stay for a beer since he did make the effort to actually shave and dress, although barely and sloppily, he stepped up to the bar and that was when his heart almost stopped.

Simon was seated across the room in a dark corner, speaking for only a moment to an anonymous passerby. He turned his head, and as he brought his pint glass to his lips he froze, his arm stopping in mid-motion at the sight of Robert standing at the bar. There was a long, awkward silence, with neither one of them moving until Simon finally placed his glass down on the counter and began to walk over.

Robert held his breath and his eyes never left Simon’s body from behind his darkened lenses. He hadn’t seen his long-lost lover in so long he couldn’t help but devour his presence.

“Robert…” Simon approached him and that tone, the very word he said… _His name_ … rendered Robert utterly speechless.

“I-umm…” Was all Robert could say. He was dumbfounded.

Simon grinned and crossed his arms nervously, “H-how?-”

But as he looked more closely at Robert, taking in his disheveled, unkempt appearance and his sickly pallor, his smile faded and his expression turned into one of concern, “Robert,” His eyes searched Robert's face as he asked, his voice lowering with worry, “Are you okay?”

“I-yeah… I think so...” Robert tried to chuckle, but could feel his own lips tremble as he spoke and he licked them slowly, “Yeah…” He said again with as much composed finality as he could manage.

Simon waited for a long moment, his eyes still searching Robert's face and then he asked.

“Have you heard about-about him?”

“Who?” And Robert's eyes closed tightly for a moment, thankful for what his sunglasses could hide. He continued to look at Simon and at long last could see the bruised remnants of that beast's rage still apparent on his face. He knew exactly who Simon was referring to and he regretted his question immediately. He didn't need to hear that name.

Simon paused and cleared his throat before proceeding, “Eric…”  He tried to sound nonchalant but realized he was failing as he saw Robert's body recoil at those words.

“No.” And from out of nowhere, to Robert's own horror, that harsh voice grunting in his hair had suddenly started to replay in his mind as he was standing there. He couldn't escape.

“He's dead, Robert.”

Robert’s head snapped up in total disbelief, “What? How?”

“Murdered in prison a few weeks back.” There was no fluctuation in Simon's tone as he spoke. It was almost as if he was reciting it and he finally sighed long and hard, his gaze still lingering on Robert's face, watching him intently.

At that last response Robert's vision began to cloud as tears began to form behind his glasses. His chest felt tight and a creeping anxiety grabbed hold of him. He was torn between wanting to be there, wanting to see Simon so badly that he ached, but simultaneously needing to run, wanting to crawl out of his own skin and he stood before him helpless, not knowing what to do with himself.

“I… have to, to leave…” And as Robert pulled off his sunglasses to quickly wipe his tears with his sleeve, he was oblivious to the fact that in an instant Simon saw in his eyes all of the pain, misery and heartache that he had bottled up for so long.

“Robert.” Simon's eyes widened in confusion and his brow furrowed, “Wait.”

“No. I've got to go, Simon.” And his glasses slid from his limp hand, landing on the floor with a clatter, but he couldn't be bothered to retrieve them. He needed to find the closest exit before he collapsed and as he turned away Simon's hand quickly reached out, lightly grasping his arm.

“Where are you going?” Simon asked.

Robert sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve and inhaled deeply as he looked down at Simon's hand around his arm and he trembled. His forehead began to perspire and he felt like he was going to be sick, “Home.”

He knew he was failing Simon once again, but he couldn't possibly tell him the reason why. He could never tell him the reason why he would wake in the middle of the night panic stricken, a cold sweat soaking his body, terrified as that painful memory in that grime filled alley clawed at his mind.

“Let-let me come with you.” Simon spoke so quietly that it shook Robert to his core, “Please." Simon insisted, “Let me.”


	35. A Prayer For Something Better

Robert sat on the edge of his bed as Simon stood over him holding out a glass of water, but he waved it away. Simon sighed and reluctantly set it on the floor.

“You don’t have any tea…” Simon said quietly and sat on the bed beside him, “Or I’d make us some.”

“I’m sorry.” Robert’s voice was dry and thin. He cleared his throat and kept his head down, “…for not having anything.” he said, defeated.

He felt an unexpected wave of anxiety sweep over him again and he began to panic. His chest tightened and his eyes felt moist.

“ _Shit.”_ he whispered out loud at himself in disgust and wiped his face with the palm of his hand as Simon shifted silently. He finally had Simon here sitting right next to him, but now Robert wished he hadn’t gone to meet him. He wished he wasn’t here. It had turned into such a disaster. _Robert_ was the disaster; utterly unfocused and blathering.

“Simon…” Robert breathed as he began to sob softly, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much, but it was all he could offer, at least for now. His voice trembled as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I-I’m… I just…” It was no use. He was still so exhausted and as a result, couldn’t organize his thoughts.

Robert could feel the warmth and proximity of Simon’s body, their thighs touching as they both sat and Robert’s body quivered as he felt an arm alight ever so gently around his waist, supporting him as he slouched over even further into despair. When Simon spoke so softly Robert wasn’t sure if it was really his voice he was hearing.

“Hey,” Simon whispered, “Lie back. Come on…” and Simon hands gently guided Robert down to the mattress on his side as Simon’s body shifted closer. Robert was shaking and freezing now and Simon’s chest felt so good, so warm and steadying against Robert’s back and his body curled so perfectly, so completely around Robert.

“Shhh…” Simon breathed, “Sleep now. It’s okay… Sleep.” he purred, his lips fluttering around Robert’s ear, pressing a soft kiss behind it.

Robert’s body quivered again at the feel of Simon's lips brushing his skin. As he tried to catch his breath and concentrate on the safety of Simon’s embrace, from out of nowhere Robert felt a warm hand come up and fingers slowly smoothing his hair. It was soothing him, lulling him, and Robert’s sobs continued to fade as he finally let his broken mind drift off and float away.

***        ***        ***

Robert was awakened by the sound of running water in the kitchen and wondered for a moment before everything clicked in his mind, “Simon…” he murmured.

He had no idea how long he had been asleep, although it was now dark. All he could remember was Simon curled around him and the fact that he hadn’t had any of the nightmares or cold sweats that had been plaguing him off and on for weeks. He had actually slept and remembered nothing but doing just that undisturbed, until he woke up just moments ago.

As he sat up in bed, he glanced around the room and noticed that the telephone had been plugged back into the wall and the trash that had been piling up in that very same corner was now gone. He scratched his head and rubbed the stubble on his face, noticing that the bed had also been straightened. The huge ball in the middle of the mattress that he had grown so accustomed to burrowing under was now made properly with the blankets tucked in around him.

Footsteps came shuffling down the hall and Robert tried straightening out his rumpled t-shirt and smoothed his hair back away from his eyes as Simon approached the bed with a cup of tea in each hand.

“Hello…” Simon quietly greeted him, a crooked grin on his face, “Here.” He extended his hand and Robert reached for the tea cup. “Didn’t know how much milk you took. Had to go back out…“ He chuckled, “Thought for sure you’d at least have some of that in the fridge.” Simon looked down quickly as if he’d said something wrong.

The very fact that Simon chose to remember how much Robert loved milk made Robert’s cheeks burn. He brought the cup up to his mouth and took a sip.

“Yeah-no, this is… this is fine.” Robert took another sip before speaking again, “Thank you.” He added quietly.

Simon sat, but this time on the floor with his back up against the wall, those long, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him, “So… How are you feeling? Any better?” Simon asked as he drank his tea.

“Um, I guess so. H-how long was I out for?”

“I’d say…” Simon sighed, “A good four hours.”

“Fuck.” Robert’s hand came up and he nervously rubbed the stubble on his chin again, “Have you…have you just come back?” Robert had to ask. Simon couldn’t have stayed here with him the entire time.

Simon looked up at Robert, “What do you mean?” A slow smile began to spread across his face, "Ah, been in and out. Picked up a few things.” He scratched the back of his head, "Cleaned up a bit…”

“What?” Robert’s eyes widened in bewilderment, “Simon, why? I mean, you didn't have to-"

“Jus-just thought you needed a hand, is all. I’m sure you’ve been busy with...well, you know, The Banshees and The Cure. And not being home sometimes… well, it-it can take a bit to catch up on things.”

Robert shifted uncomfortably and looked down into his tea. He wasn’t unappreciative of all that Simon had done, but he knew all of his slovenliness was a direct result of his idleness and uselessness and no one should have cleaned up after that but himself. The guilt had started to close in.

“Thanks…” And he continued to look down into his cup, swirling the liquid momentarily, “Thanks for doing all of this.” He cleared his throat, “But, I-I haven’t been… I’ve stopped with The Banshees. I haven’t been touring with them. It’s been a while.”

There was no response as Simon finished his tea and set the cup down on the floor beside him.

Robert inhaled deeply and exhaled wearily, "I haven’t done anything with The Cure since the last album, the one I made after—“ He stopped, he didn’t want to mention that album or the resulting dismal tour, but sadly, it was how he always remembered that time, “...Umm since the last record.” He added quietly, "The last bit of that tour was canceled.”

Simon breathed, “Oh.”

“Things were just—“Robert stopped again. He was loathe to continue, but knew he owed Simon that, “It all just went wrong and… I’m sorry… for everything." Robert paused and looked down into his cup once again, " _Everything._ ” There was nothing else he could say.

Simon pulled his legs up to his chest and gazed across the room, “I know.” He murmured quietly, still not meeting Robert’s gaze as he spoke. “We weren’t in a good frame of mind—I mean, the drugs were to blame for a lot of it…” He closed his eyes, “I was really… really messed up for a long time.” Simon sighed, “Didn’t know how I felt about…about us.” Simon paused, “I didn’t know what was happening - if it was real…I didn’t know if anything was real.”

Robert’s eyes snapped up at those words and he watched as Simon’s head fell back against the wall, his neck muscles moving as he swallowed, "I just needed to stop everything before I--" Simon hesitated, "Anyway…then I moved in with Matty." He stared up at the ceiling.

After a long silence he spoke again softly, “Robert, I came to see you when you had your… _accident_. Well, that’s what Rita said it was.” It was a breathy, half-hearted chuckle, “But I knew what it really was."

His eyes flashed over to Robert sitting up against the headboard and the urgent seriousness in his eyes threw Robert off guard, “I just couldn't understand why… why would you do something like that when you have everything?” He stared at Robert in utter disbelief, “I mean, you do know that, right?” Simon’s eyes were moist as they continued to look into his and Robert was transfixed, he didn’t dare move.

“You _do_ have everything.” Simon continued, “A wonderful talent, a life of your own making, the perfect career, a loving family and girlfriend that care about you.”

Robert looked down and away from Simon without uttering a word. He couldn’t bear to tell him how off the mark he actually was right now.

“What more could you possibly want? What _don't_ you have?” Simon asked, his voice rising slightly with agitation. “Honestly…”

Robert’s mouth curled up into a sorrowful smile as the smallest sound left his lips, “ _You._ ”

There could only be one answer and Robert knew it and had finally said it and that simple fact had remained. Simon was exactly what he wanted and he was exactly what he didn’t have, yet needed for as long as he could remember.

A suffocating silence filled the room as they sat across from each other and their gazes drifted out in front of them as they both stared at nothing. Simon wordlessly lifted his body off the floor and Robert knew he had to keep his head down. He couldn’t watch him walk out the room and out of his life again for what he was sure would be the very last time. He wouldn’t be able to cope. It was all too much.

Instead, the mattress yielded under the weight of Simon’s body as he sat on the edge facing the door and Robert’s head rose up slowly. He was in shock and quickly wiped away the tears that had been stinging at the corners of his eyes. He watched quietly as Simon’s shoulders moved with each breath he took, his gaze still fixed straight ahead staring out into the hallway.

“Simon?” Robert tossed the covers to the side and crawled over on his knees. He raised a shaking hand and placed it on Simon’s shoulder, his fingers skimming lightly over his shirt over to that smooth spot in between his shoulder and neck and it was just as he remembered; warm and soft... and his shoulder, just as strong as before. He felt Simon sigh softly, his back contracting and expanding more deliberately and deeper as Robert inched closer to his back.

He had to tell him now and it felt like the longest few minutes of his life before he could even open his mouth, finally admitting out loud in a low and breathy whisper to what he knew all along, “I love you…”

Simon’s breath caught for just a moment and Robert could feel his body twitch slightly as Robert brought up his other hand and placed it on his upper arm, his palm now in full contact with the bare skin of his warm, firm bicep. He dared to move even closer, his mouth a mere inch from the back of his neck and Robert’s breath had become shallow and quick, moistening Simon’s smooth skin just above the collar of his t-shirt. Robert could smell his familiar, unforgettable scent as he closed his eyes and pressed his lips lightly to that moist skin at last and it tasted so sweet. Exactly how he remembered.

Robert quietly sucked in a long breath and held back a moan. He was desperate and he knew Simon could feel his erection brush his back as it came in contact with his body. Robert pressed the front of himself into Simon's back, his hips moving forward so slowly, gently, pressing his arousal against him and Robert let out a low sigh. His arms wrapped around Simon's chest as his forehead dropped down onto the same skin he had kissed moments ago, and as his eyes closed he couldn't help but whisper again, “I love you…”

****The original fic doesn't end here, although it may be the perfect stopping point for this audience. If you would like to read the additional chapters, please let me know. Otherwise, THE END****


	36. A Prayer For Something Better

There was no response from Simon after Robert whispered those words, only a long, unbearable silence. Simon didn't move and Robert's eyes finally opened and his head rose up slowly. Robert felt the mattress shift and as Simon turned to face him at last, his eyes fixed on Robert’s.

He felt so utterly ridiculous that he never told Simon before and he nodded slowly, “I do." Robert said quietly.

He couldn't understand how Simon never realized, but as he thought again he felt a pang of guilt as he remembered the not so distant past and Robert's hand came up to the side of Simon's face, trembling uncontrollably as he touched his cheek. He had to make certain Simon knew he meant every word of how he felt.

"I've loved you…always." Robert breathed, his teary, swollen eyes now searching his friends face.

Simon's eyes closed and his hand came up settling on top of Robert's and he could feel Simon take in a long, deep breath.

"I..." he whispered, his eyes still closed, his breath wavering, "I love you." It was as if he struggled, uttering those words so quietly, Robert could barely hear them reach his ears.

Robert inched closer to him and brought up his other hand, cupping his face as he leaned in and his lips finally placed a slow, soft kiss on that trembling mouth and pulled away slowly, after only a moment. It was everything Robert could have hoped for as Simon's small tilt of his head brought their mouths together, sliding, but so slowly. He knew he was in heaven when Simon's lips parted, letting Robert invade that mouth, his silky tongue now entwined with Robert's, exploring, and Simon's small, low sighs were music to his ears. Robert slid closer to him on the bed and brought his hands down, letting them trail along Simon's neck, his shoulders, his arms, until finally stopping at his wrists and he had to break away to breathe, he was already breathless.

Robert whispered, gazing back at him through lidded eyes, "I've always..." He licked his lips, "always wanted you." And his hands trailed back up his body, stopping at his shoulders and Robert could feel his smooth skin under his fingers. "Always…" He said again, his tremulous whisper trailing off as he leaned in again and his mouth met Simon's shoulder where he placed a damp kiss and sucked so gently, his tongue running along that curve.

It was the smallest sound that came from Simon’s throat as Robert pulled at the collar of his t-shirt to gain access to even more of him, continuing to suck lightly on his skin. Suddenly, Robert felt warm hands reach up into his hair, pulling slightly and then sliding around to the back of his head, pressing it down. Robert’s heart was racing and he stopped and pulled back slightly to catch his breath, only to return to plant soft kisses up his neck, until finally reaching those lips again, taking them into a deep and hungry kiss.

Simon’s body began to slowly fall back onto the mattress with Robert on top of him, their chests now touching, their lips breaking away momentarily as they now both tried to catch their breath.

Robert’s strained whisper could hardly escape as he cracked his eyes open. He was so desperate—his erection raging. It had been far too long, “Please…” He begged, his face buried in Simon’s hair, his lips grazing his ear, “Touch me.”

Simon groaned softly, muffled by Robert’s mouth on his once again as his hand slid down Robert’s chest, stopping just above the front of his shorts until Robert’s hand landed on top of Simon’s, pushing it gently down onto his cock. The countless nights he had imagined it, pleasured himself to it, and now that moment was finally here and Robert gasped loudly at the feel of Simon’s hand on him again after all this time.

He pulled up Simon’s t-shirt and kissed his chest, travelling down his body as Simon continued, his hand snaking so slowly inside, so gently brushing against his hard cock and Robert shuddered, “Oh, Christ…”  His voice shook and his eyes closed tightly, almost painfully and instantly he felt Simon’s fingers wrap lightly around him, moving up and back so slowly, so torturously.

Robert moaned and pulled Simon’s shirt up even further, trying with shaking hands to wrench the fabric up over his head. Simon’s hand left the front of Robert’s shorts unexpectedly and Robert moaned with disappointment, “No…” And Simon’s arms came up, his hands quickly pulling the shirt off at last and, with that, Robert suddenly stopped to take in the sight below him: Simon’s shirtless body lying beneath him, his hair rumpled and his kiss-swollen lips parted slightly, his dark eyes filled with want... Robert had never seen anything as tempting as this.

His whisper was unsteady and hoarse, “You…you’re…” He grappled with the words, “so beautiful…” And he lowered his head, his lips leaving wet kisses down his chest and his stomach, savoring his taste, sighing long and low as one hand moved from holding himself up on the bed to Simon’s body, his palm moving along that hot skin, watching his chest as it rose and fell with each eager breath, remembering the pattern of his tufts of hair eventually disappearing below his the waistband of his jeans.

Robert blinked hard and his hand drifted down to his belt, unbuckling it, then popping open the button until finally the zipper, inch by inch, pulling it down and Simon shuddered as Robert slid his hand inside. Simon’s head fell back into the pillows and moaned his name softly as Robert’s hand slid up and down his length, his hips thrusting slowly, gently up into Robert’s hand as he stroked his cock.

Robert moved to straddle him on the bed and he could do nothing more but simply stare at this breathtaking creature in awe. He was rapt, not fully grasping that he was here with Robert like this again… this time in his very own bed.

He moved his hand away from Simon’s cock and pulled down on his jeans, he had to see him in his entirety and he finally slipped them off and away, quickly returning his hands, trailing them up along those powerful, flawless legs, and stopping at his groin. As his hands wrapped around the base of his erection, Robert dipped his head down between those perfect thighs and slowly took Simon into his mouth. Robert’s lips and tongue glided so deliberately slow and Robert relished those soft whimpers he heard above him, reveling in Simon's taste, his own hungry moans of desire now muffled as his mouth continued to move up and back.

By now, Robert’s lust was beginning to get the better of him and his other hand moved to spread Simon’s legs apart, sliding a finger into him and Simon gasped and moaned Robert’s name as he slid yet another finger inside, still sucking him fervently. Simon’s hands were in his hair now, pulling at first then pressing his head down onto his cock and Robert gagged as it slammed into the back of his throat. Simon groaned, his hands still in his hair, tangling in it even deeper and as Robert continued to suck him off, just listening to those sweet sounds of pleasure coming from Simon’s throat made him literally weak, his head was spinning. He had to stop, and he took his mouth away, raising up to watch as he eagerly plunged his fingers in and out, his mouth finding Simon’s face to kiss it, his eyes, his cheeks, greedily latching onto his lips, his tongue… He wanted to devour him.

His cock was so hard, aching to feel that tight warmth around him. And he pictured Simon’s legs clasped around him as he plunged into him again and again and his heart was in his throat, he needed to have him now. He had become crazed, dizzy and blinded by lust as he quickly withdrew his fingers and yanked his shirt up over his head, then pushing his shorts down, almost ripping them as he peeled them off, throwing them over the bed. When he finally scrambled back over to Simon his entire body was shaking, burning. He couldn't stop and roughly pushed Simon’s legs up and pushed into him at last with a long, pained moan.

“Ohh…F-fuck…!” He could barely breathe and knew that if he thrust only one more time he would come. His cock was throbbing with need as he lingered above him, frustrated and breathless. He couldn’t go on and tears began to form, obscuring that beautiful sight below him to a blur.

“Simon I-I…ca--” And before those damning words left his lips, Simon’s arms came up, wrapping tightly around him, pulling Robert down onto him. Robert stopped and remained motionless until he felt Simon’s hands on his ass, pressing Robert in deeper, encouraging him and it was all he could take and he moaned uncontrollably, his cock pulsing once again as he pushed into him even further, harder.

Robert knew he was lost in it now. He was lost in him and Simon’s muffled whimpers and cries into Robert’s neck as he moved inside of him were urging him on even more. His lust unstoppable, and he pushed Simon’s legs back further, grunting desperately, almost sobbing as he continued to thrust, the headboard violently slamming into the wall, the bed vibrating beneath their panting, writhing, sweat-slicked bodies.

“Ohh, I love-I love fucking you!!...” he mumbled deliriously as he continued to pound into him and Simon’s hands on his ass driving him deeper and harder - wanting more - made Robert feel like an animal. His hands feverishly ran along the length of Simon’s legs. Those legs… having them clasped around him at last was indescribable. He was overwhelmed.

And then he felt it. Simon came - an intense, wordless cry leaving his lips as his cock exploded all over the both of them and it was all Robert needed to witness to send him over the edge in seconds.

“ _S-Sim…!_ ” he gasped, “ _Fuck!_ ” Robert cried out at last. His arms wrapping around Simon tightly, his lips finding his neck, sucking and licking, murmuring incoherently as he finally erupted. His cock shot out into Simon as he thrust through his orgasm again and again, a hoarse, struggling whimper leaving his throat with each shuddering burst of his release.

***       ***       ***

He couldn’t raise his head from Simon’s neck, his body literally collapsed on top of him after coming harder than he ever had in his life.

"My... God.” Robert’s muffled sigh was the best he could do. His body was still humming, his legs numb. He could feel Simon’s heart beating just as furiously as his own as he lay on top of him, unable to move.

He felt Simon beneath him begin to squirm and cough and Robert slowly pulled out of him, reluctantly sliding down onto the mattress. He slowly turned limply on his side, his body plastered against Simon’s as his hand inched up into Simon’s hair, fingers smoothing gently, feeling the wetness of perspiration in it and his hand moved again, gliding down to the side of his face, then finally coming to rest on his shoulder.

Simon coughed again, this time bringing up his arms to his sides, his head tilting back.

Robert propped himself up on his elbow, suddenly alarmed at Simon’s movements, hoping he was truly exaggerating and not in any physical distress. He couldn't bear to hurt him again.

Robert's voice cracked with dryness and he cleared his throat, “Are you okay?” He asked,  “I didn’t—didn’t hurt you, did I?"

“Yeah…” Simon replied simply and yawned. A sigh of exhaustion followed, but his eyes were clear and calm as he turned, gazing into Robert’s, a grin spreading across his face. Robert’s eyes widened in fear, and Simon’s hand came up to touch his cheek, his fingers sliding down over Robert’s lips so gently, finally whispering.

“No, you were…” A long pause and a hard swallow, “No.” He said with finality as he continued to simply stare at Robert.

“Simon?” Robert asked, not absolutely certain why an overwhelming feeling of confusion began to swirl in his mind. “Can—will you stay?” It was one of the most terrifying questions Robert had ever asked and his own body recoiled involuntarily at his vulnerability, but Simon’s hand moved quickly to his cheek, cupping it firmly, almost holding him there.

And after what felt like the longest, dread-filled silent expanse, his answer came.

"Yes..."

It was a mere breath, but to Robert, the sound was nothing short of a loud peal, resonating throughout the room and he felt as if his heart would burst. He wordlessly slid back down and pulled Simon's warm body closer to his and wrapped his arm around his waist, letting his face rest against Simon's shoulder as the darkness of evening closed in around them. As Robert slowly began to drift off, sated, with his mind finally at peace, he knew this would always be his perfect moment.

***        ***        ***

“No...” The voice croaked, trailing off into the stillness of the darkened room. He rolled over onto his back, pushing the covers down on his body, his head slowly rolling from side to side on the pillow.

“Stop.” Robert's whining protest grew louder and was plainly heard, followed by a pained whimper as he rolled over abruptly, this time onto his side, arms outstretched and his hands knocking the pillows onto the floor in one sweeping motion. “No! Stop!” His cry turned into distressing moans as the body beside him tried to shift, to move away, muddled at the sudden sounds and movements that jostled him from his slumber, but it was the strange sound of desperation in Robert's voice escalating in volume that finally startled Simon, causing him to abruptly sit up in bed, turning towards Robert.

Robert's body thrashed, backing up into Simon as if he was trying to escape, trying to squirm away from the invisible force that was holding him.

“Robert.” Simon's tone was firm and his hand shook Robert's shoulder in an attempt to rouse him from his terror. “Hey! Robert, wake up!” He wrapped his arm around his body to quiet him.

Dazed and with his head still cloudy, Robert finally came to and as his eyes fluttered open, the unexpected discovery of Simon's body wrapped around him tightly, gently holding him still was horrifying. He couldn’t bear to turn to face him, realizing that Simon had now caught a glimpse into what Robert had been living with and fighting for weeks.

“Robert, what--”

“You… I don't…” Robert had no idea how to continue, if he even should continue. How could he possibly explain what had happened to him that night in the alley without imagining Simon feeling some sort of revulsion at his weakness, his helplessness.

Robert's body withered and he whimpered quietly as Simon's hand gripped his face, slowly turning him, guiding it back towards him, his dark eyes holding him and Simon swallowed hard before he opened his mouth to speak, “Robert, what happened?” There was no answer and after a long moment, Simon asked again, cautiously, “What is it?”

“It was…” Robert licked his dry lips and opened his mouth to speak again, but only a squeak had emerged. He shook his head and closed his eyes, “Can't sleep anymore...” Robert sniffed as he buried his head into Simon’s chest. It was so true. He was exhausted. It was a constant struggle to avoid sleep and the inevitable terror that came with it.

“It was... _him_.” He admitted in a defeated raspy whisper as he curled into Simon's body, his words muffled by Simon's neck as he gasped, trying to piece his thoughts together into a coherent sentence, “He wouldn't stop. He-”

“Oh...” Simon sighed quietly, “You don't have to...”

At that very moment it was all that Robert needed; that soothing whisper was everything.

“You don’t need to finish. I-I know…” Simon said again quietly, his voice shaking as he smoothed Robert's hair.

Robert held his breath. _Just what exactly did Simon know?  How could he possibly…?_ Robert thought. His arms pulled him in closer and as Robert relaxed into the soft rocking of Simon's body calming him, he could have sworn he felt faint sobs from that warm chest and it was then that he suddenly he realized that they shared the same odious secret.

He wasn't alone.

 


	37. Chapter 37

It had been a month since Robert's mother had heard from her son. The last time Rita had laid eyes on him was the afternoon Robert had so impatiently plucked Simon's letter from her hands and roared off down the street.

After repeatedly phoning his flat to no avail it was time for more desperate measures and witnessing the fact that he was still alive with all limbs intact would only suffice. Much to Robert's horror, Rita materialized on his front step that afternoon, pounding incessantly on his door with grocery bags in hand.

He finally rolled out of bed, pulled on a T-shirt and shorts and padded to the front room not daring to answer the door, only glaring out of the window at her at first, his forehead eventually meeting the glass with a dull thud, “ _Fuck_. Rita!” He finally muttered aloud.

“Don't make me use the spare key, Robert.”

She hadn't vanished like Robert had hoped even after the long silence, and he continued to stand with his head still pressed against the window, his apprehensiveness growing.

“I know you're in there.” she called, “Your car is across the street!” She stepped closer, her neck craning, eyes scanning  the front window, finally spotting Robert's dark, disheveled mass of hair flattened against it, “And I can see you right in the window for Pete’s sake! I'm not leaving until you open this door.”

Robert moaned at those words. He knew it was true. She would camp there all night. He had no choice but to see her face to face and let her inside. He swung the door open and Rita stepped forward, quickly breezing past her son as if he didn't exist and marched straight into the kitchen.

“I don't understand what's wrong with you, Robert.” She started, “I am still your mother. I need to hear your voice, to know you are still among the living. Ridiculous right?!” She put the bags down on the counter and busied herself with unloading them.

“Mum. I'm--everything is okay. Can you just… It's not a good time.”

“Nonsense! Honestly, with your behavior what do you expect? Someone needs to check on you. I will not sit and watch you try and kill yourself again, Robert.” Her tone was turning frustrated and Robert was beginning to fidget.

”You don't answer your phone. Don't leave your flat for weeks… We've been worried sick. This is absurd.” She moved to the refrigerator, continuing to put items away, leaving Robert standing in the middle of the kitchen nervously scratching his head.

She turned around and stopped immediately, standing with napkins in her hands looking for some other sort of surface besides the cluttered counter on which to place them.

“I mean, look at this place.” She sighed. “where on earth do you eat, Robert?! There isn't even a table… or chairs in here!” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Instead of trying to help yourself you insist on hiding away in here all alone. For months you've been like this. So miserable… I don't know how I raised such a miserable son. It-it's beyond me…” She chattered on, “Honestly, you and Simon - both trying to kill yourself.  Both of you winding up in hospital almost dead. One worse than the other…”

She whirled around and stopped what she was doing only to face her son with hands on her hips, “You won’t see a doctor. You won’t talk to anyone. The only thing I can do is pop over to see if you’re alright."

“Mum, what do you want me to say? You didn't have to-“

“Oh, please, Robert." She sighed wearily. "Why don't you just tell me what’s been going on?”

“ _What?!”_  Robert asked, suddenly regretting his automatic outburst and his eyes darted up to her face.

There was frustration in her voice, “You know, your father and I have never said anything to you about-about your lifestyle… Honestly, I wish you were more careful.” She said.

Robert breathed a sigh of relief as she continued.

“The drugs... all of this craziness.” She shook her head, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” She shook her head and closed the cabinet door under the sink and continued on, “And this business with Simon…the fighting.”

There it was. Robert inhaled deeply and his gaze shot up to the ceiling.

“I don’t think I need to say anything more.”

Robert didn’t open his mouth. He had no idea what to say to his mother’s words. Had she known about the two of them? Had he been so transparent about everything? He didn’t want to find that out. Not here and certainly not right at this moment. Panic began to set in and Robert shifted on his feet, his forehead beginning to perspire and he shamefully averted his eyes to the floor.

 “Well, I've got to use the loo.” As she quickly moved to the doorway, Robert suddenly remembered the bedroom door had remained open and his bed, with Simon in it, was in plain view from the hallway.

“Mum, no. Wait!” He bounded down after her, but it was too late and as she proceeded to turn into the bathroom the rustling of sheets had caught her attention and it was then that she laid her eyes on a shirtless figure sitting up with legs over the side of the bed, clutching the covers around his waist.

They both froze and Simon's eyes widened and his mouth opened as if to speak, but only an unintelligible croak could be heard as their eyes locked onto each other's momentarily.

“Shit.” Robert muttered, standing beside his mother. He rubbed the back of his head and his eyes closed tightly. Robert didn’t have to wonder any longer about what exactly she knew about the two of them. Simon lying naked in his bed told her everything.

Simon remained motionless and stunned and Rita took a step back at what she had seen, then finally spoke, “Oh, hello Simon, dear.” There was only a hint of hesitance in her voice as she quickly glanced back over at Robert.

“Well…” She cleared her throat and her eyes darted back over to Simon frozen in place and she looked back at Robert yet again. “Think I’ll be off.” and as she continued her trek towards the front room, Robert slumped lifelessly against the wall, emitting a hopeless sigh.

“Lovely seeing you again, Simon.” she chirped and Robert cringed, “I’ll tell your mum where you are should she have trouble finding you!” and the door promptly shut behind her.

Simon immediately flopped back down onto the bed, and let out a groan, "Fucking hell…” His quiet mumble echoed through the thick silence as he draped his arm over his eyes.

Robert pulled himself away from the wall and watched as Simon moved his arm under his head and silently stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, Simon.” Robert felt terrible, but there was nothing else he could say, nothing he could do to change what his mother witnessed, “I tried stopping her, but…” His voice faded and he wondered if he really tried hard enough.

“S’alright.” And Simon let out a dry chuckle, “It couldn’t be helped.” He sighed, his eyes still turned up at the ceiling.

“Simon?” Robert moved and stood over the foot of the bed, his chest tightening at the very thought of Simon leaving, but now he had to ask, “Are you… Are you leaving?”

Simon sat up, hair tousled, covers still messily draped around his lower half and his eyes opened wide with surprise at Robert’s unexpected question.

“Sh—shall…” Robert could see him swallowing hard, “Do you want me to?”

“No!” Robert’s rash outburst made Simon flinch ever so slightly. None of his words were coming out as he had hoped. Robert wanted him to stay more than anything. For as long as possible, perhaps, even indefinitely. He shuddered. _What on earth was he thinking?_ He ran his hand mindlessly through his hair and simply could not stop himself, “Can you stay?” He finally asked, his voice wavering shamefully, “Just a little while longer?” Robert was appalled at his own desperation.

Simon was silent and still and Robert quickly thought through just how he would recover from his foolishness. He never begged anyone, not even Mary.

“I mean, if you’ve got something—“ He grappled for anything.

“I can stay… I-I want to.” Simon’s voice was hushed and Robert could do nothing but nervously scan the bed sheets in front of him as his heart fluttered and his cheeks burned with heat.

“Robert…” Simon jolted him out of his daze, “Hey.” he whispered quietly and outstretched his hand and Robert caught sight of that small movement and his glance shot up to the familiar figure in his bed, and when his eyes darted up to meet Simon’s, a bright smile spread across his lover’s face, his arm still reaching for Robert.

“Come here.” Simon beckoned. It was the sweetest request and Robert willingly complied, their hands meeting, fingers interlaced as he sat down on the bed and watched Simon slowly sink back into the pillows.

“I said…” Simon whispered more insistently, his smile turning into a sly grin, “Come here.” And with his hand still clutching Robert’s, he abruptly pulled his body towards him until their faces were inches apart, their warm breath mingling as Robert’s gaze fell onto Simon’s face.

“Simon…” Robert was bewildered. After what had happened earlier: Simon having to deal with Robert’s garish display of terror, Rita discovering them… He was certain Simon would have left by now, but he didn’t and as Robert searched those dark eyes that held so much beauty and warmth, Robert couldn’t help but finally feel wanted, loved. He was overwhelmed.

“I love you.” He could feel his eyes being to fill with a familiar wet warmth and he let out a breathy sigh.

“Shh… Don’t—don’t talk.” Simon purred, and it wasn’t more than an instant before he felt Simon’s arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him even closer as they sank down in to pillows together.

 


	38. A Prayer For Something Better

Mary had known Robert's feelings towards Simon even before he knew himself and he was truly shocked by her admission. How many years had he been friends with Simon? Was he really that obvious about everything? She didn’t ask if it was over between them. She knew Robert well enough to sense that he was happy. She had finally come to terms with Robert and Simon’s affair which would have been labeled by many as “forbidden.” It was now a part of her reality and she could do nothing to change that. She was fearful of the consequences if she tried. She still loved him after all, and would not let history repeat itself.

“Robert…” Mary sighed and paused. Robert knew that tone and his stomach dropped at her hesitation, “Why don’t we just take this one step at a time?” She asked quietly.

He loved her since the moment they had met and couldn’t bear the thought of her not being in his life anymore. It was so similar to his relationship with Simon, yet so different. His relationship with Mary was loving and almost maternal at times. With Simon it was such raw, animal passion, something unspoken and unconventional and it was something he could never have with Mary. Despite those differences, he had fallen in love with both of them almost instantly. It was beyond his control.

Robert looked down, his one hand twirling the phone cord as the other held on to the receiver, not sure if he should even continue. What possessed him to even dial her number? What did he expect from her? He knew she was being cautious after what he put her through and now - the fact that she would have to share him…with another man.

“Can—can I see you?” he asked, his voice cracking with desperation. He had to try and convince her. He needed her. He needed them both.

“Well, I—"

“This weekend?” Robert cut in quickly, “Please…"

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and continued, her voice shaking slightly, “You can pick me up Sunday… lunchtime.”

Lunch. Sunday. There was hope. “Sure.”

“I’ve got to go… We’ll talk on Sunday.”

“Okay. See you then.”

The phone clicked as she hung up abruptly and as Robert placed the receiver back onto the cradle, the sound of footsteps approached from behind. He felt heat radiate from a warm presence and arms wrapped around his shoulders and then moments later, dark hair fell onto the side of his face as soft lips kissed his ear and a gentle whisper breathed into it, “I missed you…”

Robert let his head tilt back in the chair and his eyes closed as he let that gentle sound caress his ears, so powerless against it, and  he felt Simon's lips move, inching around to capture Robert's mouth in a long, soft kiss, eventually breaking away and standing up, letting Robert's head rest against the front of him.

“What are you doing sitting here alone in the dark?” Simon asked quietly. His hands began to slide over the top of Robert’s shoulders and down his arms.

Robert glanced around the room and suddenly felt foolish. There was no light on, just the sun setting through the window. None of his customary pens and papers and notebooks surrounded him on the desk, only the phone sitting directly in front of him.

It was quite obvious what he was doing.

He cleared his throat and tried to dismiss it, “Nothing.” He didn’t know why he felt so utterly guilty over a simple phone call, but he did, “Just thinking… I suppose.” He kept his eyes closed. He had to.

“Huh…” Simon let out a weak chuckle at that, “Uh-huh.” He knew all too well that Robert thinking by himself in the dark could spell disaster, especially if he’d been drinking… alone. It was very rare these days, but still quite possible, and Simon’s eyes scanned the desk and floor around him for empty bottles. There were none and Robert’s voice was lucid, but Simon had to ask again, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah…” he answered, trying to shake the unsettling feeling that was turning in his gut.

“Right.” Simon quickly loosened his grip, “Well, I’ve been round to the studio to work a couple of things out. The others just showed up. Wondering if you were coming along.”

“Yes.” Robert sighed, finally opening his eyes. As he tilted his face up their gazes met and Robert smiled at the liveliness and warmth he saw in that expression which never failed to captivate him and he realized he didn't want to return to the studio right then. Lately, he felt as if he'd been practically living there. He would much rather spend the evening right where he was, staring up into those dark eyes.

"Though, looks like you could use a bath first.” Simon stated simply and as he kept his gaze on Robert, a crooked smile spread across his face. “and a shave.” Simon teased, his hands smoothing away Robert’s hair from his face.

“Very funny.” Robert laughed quietly. ”Are you implying that I look like shit?” Robert furrowed his brow in an attempt to look insulted, but his grin wasn't disappearing.

“No… Well, maybe… just a little.” Simon’s hands were on him again, trailing smoothly down his shoulders once more and squeezing gently.

He knew just how right Simon was. It had been days since he even thought about cleaning himself up. Everyone knew Robert well enough to know that he had reached one of his manic states once again, occupying himself entirely with the new album, although this time thankfully without the added influence of drugs and with Simon back in the band and back in his life, it was like a celebration of sorts.

“Fuck…” Robert mumbled and slowly stood. He ran a hand through his hair and scanned the room for his jacket and trainers, “Where are my bloody shoes?”

“You—you’re not going out like that are you?”

“Like what?” Robert asked plainly.

“Like _that!”_ Simon was appalled and shook his head.

Robert looked down at his mismatched ensemble; the rumpled blue pajama top and his equally rumpled, ill-fitting trousers and merely shrugged, oblivious.

“What? I’m comfortable!” He grinned, outstretching his arms from his side, “What’s wrong with this?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Simon asked incredulously, “It’s pathetic!”

"Well…you're not the one wearing it!" He wasn’t going to budge.

"Ha! Got that right." Simon dropped his jacket on the bed and lit a cigarette.

Robert watched as Simon leaned against the wall and his eyes couldn't help but look him over. Everything about him was perfect, Robert thought. He could never look anything close to that; long legs in tight jeans stretching down to boot-clad feet, his strong yet graceful arms defiantly crossed, cigarette dangling from his mouth, those dark, mysterious eyes that held so much life in them and that hair... it had become even more explosive than Robert's. He was the perfect mixture of toughness and vulnerability. There was even a certain feminine quality about him and that combination, to Robert, was irresistible.

Robert felt a familiar heat begin to spread in his cheeks and looked away quickly. He couldn't become distracted. He had to focus on their ridiculous exchange once again, “I’m not changing.” and he shook his head, both of them facing each other with arms crossed. As far as Robert was concerned, there was nothing further to discuss. There was simply no point.

“Well, at least fucking shave!" Simon stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Ugh… Why?” Robert whined. He couldn't believe he sounded like that and he stopped himself as another whine of bewilderment threatened to escape. He couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation and he couldn't believe he was letting Simon do this to him.

“We’re going for a drink first.” Simon walked over to him.

Robert opened his mouth to protest, but immediately felt Simon tugging at his arm, pulling him towards the bathroom where he opened the medicine cabinet and fished out Robert’s electric shaver.

"What the fuck?” Simon looked at the filthy device in his hand and laughed, “Have you ever cleaned this bloody thing?”

“Works fine for me.” Robert shrugged again and looked down, examining the tiles on the floor.

"Amazing…” Simon’s voice trailed off knelt down in front of the sink and opened the cabinet underneath and began rummaging through the clutter. He leaned over further, exposing the smooth swatch of skin just below where his t-shirt had become untucked and Robert’s eyes darted down even further, licking his lips at the very sight of his lover bent over, ass turned slightly upward... so firm, so flawless.

Robert stepped in close and reached down putting his hands on Simon’s back, his skin warming Robert's palms through the thin fabric of his shirt, “No… _You..._ are amazing.” He didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but it was true. He missed him. He hadn’t seen him in so long. The album and everything associated with making and promoting it had quickly blocked out everything and everyone else from his life and now, this perfect specimen was suddenly here in his bathroom, crouching so beautifully before him. It was just too much and he couldn't resist.

“Simon…” Robert’s hands moved slowly up under his t-shirt, his smooth, bare skin now radiating such heat under Robert’s palms.

“Robert…” Simon stopped and put his hands on the floor, balancing himself and let out a breathy laugh, “No.”

“What?” Robert whispered, not quite believing he was being turned down, “But, I—I’ve missed you…” His hands continued to slide over Simon’s skin pushing his t-shirt up, exposing his back to Robert completely.

Simon moved away from Robert’s hands and slowly stood to face him with his back to the sink. He hadn’t bothered to pull his shirt back down and the sight of his bare chest was simply breathtaking. Robert’s hand reached up automatically and his fingers gently ran over his stomach, traveling up to his chest where he stopped at a nipple and ran his index finger over it wrenching a small sound from Simon’s mouth at that touch.

That sound was all Robert needed to close in, “Kiss me...” His eyes were heavy, his throat dry and he nudged Simon gently up against the sink behind him. Their bodies only inches apart.

“No…” Simon's refusal was a low, wanton sound to Robert and it made him desire him all the more. Their mouths were nearly touching and Robert could feel Simon’s breath quicken as that word left his lips.

“Why not?” Robert’s frustrated words were caught in his throat and his head came forward slowly, the tip of his tongue suddenly darting out to lick Simon’s bottom lip and a small sigh emitted from Simon’s mouth as they stood, bodies still inches apart, the heat between them building. Both of them yearning for contact, yet not breaking that invisible barrier.

And just then, Simon backed away and Robert heard the most unexpected murmur in response to his question uttered only moments before, “Shower…”

He froze, “What?”

Simon’s head nodded slowly and his lips turned upward, spreading into a sly grin as Robert leaned even closer ignoring his request, but Simon moved quickly, arching backwards over the sink, their bodies still not touching. It was driving Robert mad.

“Shower.” Simon said again softly, but determined.

It did nothing to diminish Robert’s lust. “Will you…” Robert swallowed, “will you join me?”

Simon remained silent as he slid to the side and turned on the water in the tub, pausing momentarily to adjust the shower head above him. As he faced Robert again, he pulled off his boots and socks and then his t-shirt, slowly slipping it off, letting it fall to the floor. Robert couldn’t tear his eyes away and Simon continued, unzipping his jeans and pulling them off, letting them also fall to the floor until finally stepping out of them.

Much to Robert’s delight, he wore nothing else underneath and Robert gasped quietly, eyes widening at the sight of that perfect body. He couldn't stop himself and he reached his arm out and Simon's cock twitched as Robert's fingers barely touched him. It was so hard, so big… and Simon moaned softly as Robert's fingers began to move up and back so lightly, so slowly.

“Robert…” Simon’s eyes closed, then opened again and his hand landed on Robert’s, moving it reluctantly aside and he turned and stepped into the shower.

“Come here.” It was barely a whisper, a shaking breath, and he stood with his arm outstretched and those words were all Robert needed to hear to make his heart melt and his arousal stir. He quickly removed his clothes, dropping each article on the floor behind him and stepped into the tub next to Simon, closing the shower door before turning to face him.

As the water sprayed over them, drenching their hair and bodies, Robert leaned in and placed his lips onto Simon’s, his tongue darting into his mouth and Robert could feel Simon pull away slightly and moan against him. He kissed him again and stepped in closer, their chests touching and Simon reached around and pulled him forward in earnest, their bodies colliding into each other’s, both of them gasping as their erections met. Robert’s mouth opened even wider, his tongue invading while his hands instinctively roamed around to Simon’s ass palming it, pushing him into his hips urgently, but then suddenly broke away from the kiss in an effort to catch his breath. He had to stop himself.

“God!” he moaned. He was going to come right there with Simon in his arms.

Simon abruptly stepped back, breathing hard, as he watched Robert under the shower head. Robert shifted and his arm came up against the tiles to balance himself from his intoxication. He was now breathless and could feel the water running cold and he shivered as Simon reached around to turn it off. Their heavy breathing and the water trickling to a stop were now the only sounds and Robert suddenly felt awkward and foolish standing before him naked and dripping wet while Simon simply stared at him as if he was on display.

“Simon,” He paused to catch his breath, “What?—“

Simon’s wet hands came up to Robert’s jawline and his fingers softly traced it, his eyes never leaving Robert's face. It was as if he was examining his features and Robert could feel another wave of dizzying warmth begin to rise from his stomach up into his face as Simon kissed his cheek lightly and whispered, “So beautiful…”

No one had ever said those words to him. Even if they did, they had to have been out of their mind on drugs. But Simon wasn’t. Neither of them were. _Surely, he must be thinking of someone else_ , Robert thought. He was a hopeless slob and he knew it—was even proud that he could get away with being so lazy about himself and his appearance at times. “No…” Robert couldn't listen to this. He had no idea what Simon was talking about. He tried turning his head away, but Simon's grip was firm as he held Robert's face in his hands.

“Yes—yes, you are…” His voice was low and silky and shaking as he spoke, “Your face… beautiful...” And Simon kissed him long and hard, his mouth finally breaking away, finding Robert’s neck and shoulder to lick his skin, eventually sucking at it, making Robert moan, his hard-on now raging.

His arms wrapped around Simon's body and his hands pressed into his skin, sliding down to his ass once again, squeezing and Robert moaned. He was in dire need, more than ever before and instantly Simon’s hand found Robert’s erection and his hand slid down his cock, rubbing his wetness from the tip back down his shaft, causing Robert to gasp. As he backed into the wet tile wall behind him he felt Simon's hand trail down his body and heard his knees hitting the tub softly with a wet thud.

Robert's eyes finally opened and his head fell forward as he watched Simon's hands trail up his legs, softly caressing his inner thighs and Robert was shaking, not at all from the cold water, but from what he wanted, what he needed. And as his hands began to tangle in Simon's hair, it was only a moment until that hot, heavenly mouth closed in around Robert's throbbing cock and slowly began to suck.

“Oh, fuck…'" Robert breathed, "I-I love you...” And his eyes shut as his head fell back onto the wall, his helpless whimper echoing in the tub around them.


	39. A Prayer For Something Better

It had slipped Robert's mind that months ago in addition to Rita, he had also given a spare key to Simon who thought nothing of letting himself in on rare occasions, even when Robert wasn't home; a direct result of Robert insisting his flat be used as Simon's refuge from his arrangement with Matty, among other things.

And on one morning in particular, it was the most careless mistake Robert could have made.

The sounds of cupboards opening and closing and the kettle on the stove had jarred Robert out of his slumber and a suffocating, sinking feeling began to creep in and he breathed in deep. He knew it wasn't Mary in that kitchen making tea, although he had desperately wanted it to be and slowly, he turned his head to the sleeping figure next to him in his bed.

“Shit.” He sighed loudly, dragging himself up and out of the bed, grabbing his shorts and t-shirt from the floor and sliding them on before he quietly exited the room and headed toward the kitchen.

“Hi.” Robert's attempt at a greeting was weak as he stood helplessly in the doorway.

Simon turned around quickly at the sound of his voice and grinned, “Robert… You-you’re awake.”

They hadn't seen each other in weeks, that choice mostly initiated by Robert. He had finally gotten back on track with Mary, but during that process it was Simon who had fallen by the wayside, continuously accepting Robert's constant refusals without question, believing the many yarns Robert had spun and spouted to his face as to just why they couldn't be together.

“Yeah… Listen, Simon I-” He shifted to his other foot and bit the edge of his thumb, his eyes darting down to the floor. He couldn't take Simon's eyes on him any longer. He wished he would turn back around.

“Not   _fully_  awake yet, I see.” Simon busied himself once again with the tea, his back now to Robert as he continued, “Sorry about stopping by so early, I--”

“Robert?” It was a soft, sleepy female voice that suddenly sounded from behind Robert, startling them both.

Robert froze and his eyes shot over to Simon, whose shoulders had tensed as he remained silent facing the cabinets, his head dropping down slowly to gaze at the counter beneath him.

“Oh…” Mary’s voice was hesitant, “H-hello, Simon.”

There was no response from the figure at the counter, only a long, tired sigh that was clearly audible.

Robert turned to look at her and her expression changed from one of confusion at the sight of Simon making himself at home in Robert’s kitchen to one of resentment, now understanding all too well what it meant. She cleared her throat and began to back towards the hallway, not bothering to hide her anger at the uncomfortable situation that was beginning to unfold.

“Umm… I’ll just get my things.” she uttered quietly, eyes piercing through Robert as her gaze shot over to his face before quickly disappearing down the hall.

“Wait…” Robert quickly followed her, slipping into the bedroom, helplessly watching as she hastily pulled on her skirt and shoes, not bothering to comb her hair or change out of Robert’s shirt. All Robert could do was continue to watch her, not daring to take a step forward nor making any attempt to look into her eyes as he knew from experience what would happen if he did; he would not come out of this situation in one piece, verbally or physically. He had no choice but to remain frozen in place as she picked up the rest of her clothing from the floor and put them in her bag.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight, bracing himself for the slap across the face that he knew he deserved.

Her expression was one of pure wrath, “Don’t even…” she stated firmly, “Enough.” She shook her head and coughed, sighing heavily, trying to regain control as she zipped her bag shut.

It was done. There was nothing more Robert could possibly say and at this point, he decided that keeping his mouth shut would be the best decision he had made in years. His talent for accomplishing nothing but bestowing heartache on those he loved was all too much to bear. He had lied to the only two people he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without.

“Can-can I –“ Not quite believing that a sentence had begun to emerge from his mouth, his ineffective rambling was abruptly silenced by Mary's bitter, disgusted huff and with that she hurried out of the room, the front door slamming, causing Robert to nearly jump out of his skin at that sound.

There was no movement coming from the kitchen and Robert stood up suddenly, remembering the sight of Simon standing at the counter, his shoulders tensed and frozen at the discovery as to real reason why Robert had been avoiding him.

“Simon?” He asked, his voice not even sounding like his own. His heart was pounding now and his ears filled with the sound of his own blood rushing, wishing he was anywhere else but in that room.

“What?” Simon’s voice was toneless and cold. Not at all filled with the warmth Robert had grown so accustomed to over the last few months. It sounded too much like the distant past he wished he could erase from their history.

“I-I’m sorry.” Robert’s voice was hoarse and filled with dread. He knew his apology wasn’t nearly enough. He felt like he would be sick.

Simon kept his gaze in front of him as his shoulders relaxed and he spoke again, “Well, that explains it then.” and he chuckled sadly, taking a deep breath, “The lies…” Simon still hadn’t turned around, “Why?” His question was strangely quiet.

“I don’t… know…” It was all Robert could come up with. He honestly had no clue as to why he felt the need to lie to either of them. It made no sense.

“I mean…” Simon’s voice wavered and he breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself, “I’m not… stupid, Robert.” Robert could hear him swallow hard before he continued, “I know that we—you and I… could never…” His voice faded away and Robert cringed at those words. Simon didn’t even need to finish his sentence, Robert knew all too well what he was trying to say. It was what he never wanted to imagine; the sad, dark truth about their relationship.

A faint, pained sound exited Robert’s throat, “Simon… I didn’t mean to hurt you, or—“ and he stopped himself before saying her name. Not in front of him. Not now.

“Fuck, Robert!” Simon’s voice rose and shook as he became more irritated, “After everything that’s happened! How could you not just tell me? Why lie about it?! For fuck's sake!”

Robert felt like he had been punched in the stomach as Simon turned around to finally face him, his expression one of utter disappointment and heartbreak.

 “I-I’ve got to… go…” Simon murmured and turned, crossing the threshold quickly, attempting his escape via the front door.

“Where do-?!” Robert sputtered helplessly, and his arm reached out in a fumbling attempt to reach out to Simon, but Simon pulled away.

“Fuck you!” Simon’s voice was loud and cold and Robert suddenly felt his arm being pulled and his body being jerked backwards into Simon’s chest, then promptly flung into the wall behind him face first. Robert’s breath was gone, knocked from his lungs as a result of Simon’s powerful shove into the hard surface and he didn’t dare move.

“Y-you fucking coward!!” Simon’s anguished cry rang through Robert’s head and he realized just how right Simon was. He slid against the wall as he shifted to look down at his feet, his head spinning and stomach swirling, wishing he could just vomit.

“No!” Robert managed a weak shout, “Simon!” He begged, almost whimpering, but it was no use as Simon's first landed on his head, knocking him forward onto the floor. He struggled and tried to rise but felt a solid force against his upper back.

“ _Fuck off!_ ” And Simon’s foot had quickly kicked him down onto the floor, the sole of his boot scratching Robert’s skin through the thin, ripped t-shirt.

Robert's head was now aching and he remained still, keeping his eyes closed, his ears zoning in on the rustling sounds of Simon's footsteps breezing by his breathless body still on the floor. A moment later he heard the front door open with enough force to send it bouncing back, the knob crashing into and denting the wall as Simon simply walked out, leaving the door to Robert's flat wide open in his wake.


	40. A Prayer For Something Better

While the making, mixing and promoting of the new album had been executed under a pleasant, light-hearted atmosphere, it was the quickly booked world tour that left a sour taste in Robert’s mouth as what was left of his and Simon’s relationship remained undefined and had all but ceased to exist, leaving Robert to wonder just why they should tour at all insisting that the dates be pushed out, much to Chris’ protest.

From the very start of their journey, it had been a reluctant affair. Neither Robert nor Simon had given in to the other and apart from brief, necessary responses as far as the shows and lodging were concerned, their verbal communication had been non-existent otherwise, speaking only when addressed by the others. This fact passing by everyone almost unnoticed as their grueling schedule had all but immersed them into their tasks.

No matter how much the two of them drank after each stellar performance and on the occasional night out with the rest of the group, it did nothing to diminish Robert and Simon’s glares cast at each other over the table or bar as they ate and drank, their glances a mixture of longing, anger and trepidation. And as the tour wore on the cracks began to appear; a clear uneasiness between both of them surfacing, their responses when they did speak to each other, consisting of sharp quips, almost intended as a stab to the heart.

Most evenings it was Robert who left uncharacteristically early and abruptly, claiming tiredness had overtaken him as he retreated to his hotel room to unsuccessfully try and phone Mary and on more than one occasion, Simon had given him a sidelong glance with a knowing, bitter huff as Robert disappeared quickly in the lift by himself, before anyone else had the chance to leave… or follow him.

“I’m going up.” Robert stated quietly, draining the last of his beer, placing the empty glass down on the bar. More patrons started to trickle in and the opportunity to slip away had presented itself at last, distracting the rest of them, particularly Lol, whose eyes had bounced briefly to Simon and then back at Robert for much of the evening, their silent, sullen stares and forced movements not going unnoticed by him until being prodded by a woman on the arm. _Perfect timing,_  Robert thought and exited the room without incident, slipping into the lift and pressing the button to his floor.

But a voice had called out, imploring the doors be held open and Robert leaned forward at that sound, urgently depressing the button to close instead, mumbling aloud at the doors as they thankfully began to seal him in the space alone, but it was only a moment later that a familiar hand unexpectedly shot in between them, sending the near closed doors flying back and Robert’s stomach fell to his feet as two figures stood in the now clear, open space in front of him.

Their eyes shot up to each other’s as Simon stepped inside with a female companion behind him hanging on to his arm, laughing breathlessly.

Robert pressed the button to his floor again, not bothering to ask the destination of the two others trapped in the small compartment with him.

“Uh, six… Please.” Simon had muttered, his arm quickly finding his female companion, pulling her into him as Robert turned his head slowly, his surly expression not going unnoticed as he fought back the urge to blurt out, “ _I know… Fu_ c _king cunt_.” But thought better of initiating an altercation.

As the lift came to a jerky halt, Robert stepped quickly in front of them and as the doors opened he took one step and quickly halted purposely at the threshold, causing Simon to run straight into his back as they attempted to make their exit.

“Oh--” Robert blurted out without looking behind him, a cruel, smug grin spreading across his face, “Oh, sorry…”

And a small, exclamation of, “Fuck.” could be heard below Simon’s breath as Robert stepped out into the hallway first and began to trudge towards his room.

Whispers and giggling could be heard trailing in his wake as Robert continued to move forward, becoming more disturbed and suspicious by their presence behind him. Not amused by, nor understanding their secretive laughter.

Robert spun around abruptly, the woman and Simon taking a step back, almost gasping at his expression which was nothing but an angry scowl.

“What the fuck is so fucking funny?!” He growled.

“I—What?” Simon’s eyes were wide, fists at his side, his back inflated and tense and he dared to continue, “Nothing. What the--?”

“Good!” And with that Robert turned around to begin his trek once more when that sound, that unmistakable, breathy laughter began to fill his ears again and it was all he could tolerate. His body instantly whirled around and his hand struck the side of Simon’s face hard as the woman jumped back, a startled yelp exiting her throat. Simon’s body hit the wall behind him and his expression was one of disbelief as his hand immediately shot up to the side of his face, a red blotch beginning to appear where Robert had struck him.

"You fucking piece of shit!” Simon’s hissed with all the venom in the world, and his now glassy eyes shot up to Robert’s. He hesitated for a moment, straightening himself then cautiously approached him, “Don’t you fucking touch me again, or--" He growled.

“Or you’ll what?!” Robert stepped forward, closing in on him, his face a mere inch from Simon’s. He could smell the beer on his breath, “Hit me? Go ahead…” Robert chuffed, “What do you think the others would do if they found out? What would… Bill do?” And he breathed in that irresistible, familiar scent, his eyes almost fluttering closed as he continued to speak, “You’d have nothing. You’d be as good as dead.” 

And Robert swallowed hard at his own words, wondering what had possessed him to say any of this when he realized, it was quite the contrary. He knew perfectly well that it was himself that would be as good as dead without Simon, and his eyes ticked down to the floor briefly as he tried to maintain his icy exterior.

“Fuck off.” Simon’s voice was a harsh, steely whisper.  
  
The woman backed away wordlessly into the darkness with mouth agape as he stepped in front of his room, his back now to Robert as he attempted to smoothly insert the key into the lock, but failed as his shaking hand missed its target more than once. Robert silently watched in horror, knowing that once that door had been opened Simon would gather his things and leave. This would be the final time he would ever lay eyes on him and he couldn’t let that happen.

As Simon pushed the door open, Robert’s hand suddenly landed on it above Simon's head, pushing it wider still, finally shoving him into the room, his other hand never leaving Simon’s shoulder, forcefully whirling him around to face him as the door slammed shut behind them.

“No…” Robert was breathless as his eyes met Simon's and a small, strangled sound exited Robert’s throat, “Don’t—don’t go.” As he continued to look into those eyes, so dark and so… the longing in them so clearly evident. Robert sighed, knowing it was hopeless now, his will had vanished and his eyes glazed over with heaviness, his head dipped forward and his lips captured Simon’s in a long, hungry kiss at last, and Robert sighed desperately at that feeling, his lips quivering as their bodies slowly pressed together.

But it was Simon who broke away abruptly, pushing Robert back and away, roughly, “Stop…!” He insisted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I—why the fuck are you doing this?!” His eyes finally floated up to Robert’s and what Robert saw nearly broke his heart.

Simon’s expression was one of desperation and fear. So much so that Robert could see his eyes grow wide and moist and Simon could do nothing but look away quickly, tears emerging from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut in anger and frustration.

Simon’s voice was quiet and low and he eyed Robert almost suspiciously, “What—what do you want from me?”

And that question was one Robert never imagined he would hear. He simply had no answer for him. His own behavior was baffling. All he could do was plead, “Please…I…I love you.” He breathed and attempted to pull him in once more, but was unsuccessful as Simon resisted and he looked at him in shock, watching helplessly as Simon turned his face away once again. But just what did he expect?

"Fuck…” Simon sighed, “Robert…” He continued, his tone growing more and more frustrated, his voice rising as he spoke, “ Y—you have no idea do you?—“ He stumbled over his words, “I—this is just… I can’t do this. After everything that’s happened…” Simon wiped his eyes. “You don’t—you can’t possibly love me!” Simon sniffed, taking in a breath and he quickly added, “How can you?!” His dark eyes, now wild, finally met Robert’s and his hand came up to the side of his face where Robert struck him moments before and his heart sank at Simon’s pained, crazed expression. 

Maybe Simon was right after all.

"No! I-I mean--Yes! I do! Simon, please!” He reached out again, clutching Simon’s hand and Simon drew back sharply. “I’m sorry I hit you…” Robert’s gruff voice was now almost a whine of desperation, “I need you.” And he could have kicked himself at such a weak, insincere response. _What the hell was he saying?_

"Ha!” Simon snorted and rolled his tearful eyes at Robert’s statement, thoroughly unconvinced, “No, you don’t. You’ve done just fine without me, mate.” And he pushed himself away and turned towards the bed. His soft mutterings could be heard as he leaned over and picked his bag up from the floor, shaking his head in disbelief at the entire situation, “I-I’ve got to go…”

“No!!” Robert insisted, his voice escaping uncontrolled and loud. Much too loud, “What—what about the tour?! You—“

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.” Simon began picking his clothes up from the floor and stuffed them in his bag, “Just ring Phil…or something.” He murmured under his breath and proceeded to stomp his way to the bathroom to retrieve the rest of his items.

"Simon!” Robert followed him and his hand quickly found Simon’s shoulder and as he looked up, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the small mirror on the wall in front of them; their eyes red and puffy with tears, their faces so worn out, their expressions so fed up. Simon’s hands gripped the sides of the sink and his shoulders slumped over in defeat as Robert’s hand moved down his shoulder to his arm slowly, his head dropping at the feel of Robert's touch.

"I’m sorry… for all of it!” Robert knew he had to do much better if he had any hopes of keeping Simon in that room, even on the same continent as him. “The lies… I didn’t—didn’t mean to. I just didn’t—I knew you’d be upset if I mentioned… Mary and me. I didn’t want you to be upset…” Robert blurted out desperately and looked up to the ceiling now, with his arm still on Simon, lightly squeezing. He couldn’t stop himself.

Before he realized it his own mouth had opened again, “Simon?” He asked, “Please believe me.” Robert’s eyes didn’t move from Simon’s rigid, quiet form hovering over the sink and he could swear he could see him shaking slightly as he continued to speak.

“Simon, I love you. I do…so much that it’s—it’s killing me.” He licked his dry lips and inhaled deeply. He continued, choking back a sob, “I know I’ve been awful. Some of the things I’ve done over the last few years to you... Fuck... I can’t stop thinking about it and how awful I’ve treated you, but I was—we—I don’t…” He had to go on, but honestly hadn’t a clue as to how he should say what he needed to admit to end all of this madness, “I—I’ve never been…” and he cleared his throat, “…in love with another man.” It was something he could never let on to with regard to the very man he had fallen for so long ago, let alone admit it to himself.

Robert’s voice filled with sadness and regret at his own stupidity of the way he had handled everything. “It—it’s never been like this for me. I’ve never had feelings—or have been attracted to another man. Ever.” It was the truth and he exhaled slowly. “And—and then you came along and… that was it really. I can’t explain it…” That much was apparent and there was nothing he could do to prevent what he felt that very first day he laid eyes on Simon, the very first time they spoke to each other. “I know it’s no excuse for my behavior, but I just didn’t know how—I didn’t know what… was happening.” There was always something more lurking behind their words and actions. Robert had never felt anything like it and knew he never would again with anyone else.

There was still no response from Simon and at that, Robert suddenly realized that perhaps everything was not as it seemed. This would never be accepted, by either of them or by anyone else. It was hopeless. He knew exactly what needed to be done and it was the only wise decision he had made concerning the two of them and that would be to simply leave Simon alone, once and for all. He had to be the one to end it. This couldn't work, there was simply too much getting in the way. Too much shame and uncertainty and it had ruined them. He was a fool to believe that any of this could go on. It would kill him eventually, and it would mean the end of The Cure, but he truly loved Simon and if he could spare him more misery, he certainly owed him that much.

"I just—I love you Simon.” Robert could say nothing less and could feel the tears begin to cloud his vision. “I was really stupid to think any of this could work…” His throat tightened and he bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling. He couldn't let Simon see this now. He had to hold himself together one last time, before he was gone.

“I guess I--I wanted you all to myself." He shook his head, "Fucking stupid…" His breathy chuckle was flat, lifeless."I was just so... jealous… Ludicrous really. I mean, here I’ve been with Mary and—I don’t know what to say. I can’t explain it. All I can do is apologize to you... I love you. I always have. It’s never changed for me. No matter what I do, I know it will never change.” 

At this point, Robert’s voice, as well as his lips trembled uncontrollably and he removed his clammy, shaking hand from Simon’s arm.

He was longing to kiss him once more, to feel his lips on his own for what he knew would be the last time, but he knew that would be impulsive and the wrong way to handle this, and as he turned to exit the tiny bathroom he felt a hand on his forearm, gently gripping. He turned promptly, only to see the face of his lover and his once best friend’s expression softening to one of sorrow and regret as he stepped in closer to Robert.

“I’m sorry.” Simon whispered, his tears welling up in his eyes as his free hand came up to wipe them. “Robert… Why didn’t you say—Why didn’t you tell me?!” He asked. “All you had to do was just… tell me. It’s not like I wouldn't understand.”

"What?!” Robert’s eyes widened at Simon’s confession. “How do you mean?” He moved his arm from Simon’s grip and backed away, leaving Simon standing alone in the doorway.

“Well…” Simon sighed deep, “I—You’re not… the first.” His body slumped against the door and he looked down quickly as that statement left his lips.

"Oh…” Robert’s voice faded into the air between them and he backed toward the bed, desperately needing to sit as he felt like the air had been knocked out of him. That was not what he expected to hear. He slowly descended onto the mattress and a sigh of disappointment escaped.

He had an idea that there had been other men - not counting that nameless, evil face who was no certainly no man to Robert. He wasn’t even human… Nevertheless, Robert was never quite certain of Simon’s sexual preferences, until now and the real truth was unsettling. But how was his own sexual behavior any better? It wasn't. He had his own sordid, brief encounters that he wasn't very proud of. Just because Simon's encounters had been both men and women shouldn't have made any difference, but it did and Robert knew he had to push those thoughts from his mind.

“But, that doesn’t matter.” Simon shook his head quickly. “It shouldn’t!” And his eyes shot up, searching for any sign of acceptance from Robert. “You’re the only man I’ve ever… loved. Just because I’ve been with—look, that part of it doesn’t matter. This goes far beyond that.” He closed his eyes for a long moment before admitting those words and Robert understood all too well that it was a struggle.

"Robert, you know I’m in love with you.” Simon finally opened his eyes once again after his statement had been said and merely stared blankly at the floor, his foot shifting uncomfortably in front of him. “I know that it’s been difficult for you… It has for me as well. Don’t you remember when I told you in your flat months ago about us? It could never be like what you and Mary have, or what Carol and I have had.” 

Simon stopped abruptly and cleared his throat and he looked at Robert again, searching, pleading with his eyes. His voice so quiet, so afraid and after a long moment, “But it could be… _ours_ …” and those words seemed to hang forever in the air until Simon spoke again, asking so timidly, “Don-don’t you think?”

The sound of Simon’s voice, the tenderness and hope he heard… It was so different to how things had been lately and it made Robert sob out loud. He dropped his hand in his hands. He was torn. How could he possibly answer that question, yet how could he possibly refuse him?

Robert mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. “I want it to be ours, Simon, I do…I’ve wanted it for so long.” He felt a wave of panic rushing over him. “I just can’t imagine my life without—without you.” He raised his head from his hands, “But how can this possibly work? Haven’t we already failed miserably? What about the girls?”

“Well, Carol knows what’s been going on… between us.” Simon crossed his arms. “And you can’t tell me Mary doesn’t already know. Of course she does. All the women do. Rita, Peg… All of them.” Simon said with finality.

“Ha…” Robert chuckled dryly. “Possibly, before we even did."

"Well, what does that matter now?” Simon asked and approached the bed, sitting softly next to Robert, his body just close enough, and added, “It's done. Why hide it? Why lie? It doesn’t change anything."

Simon was right. It was done - out in the open already and the only issue was how Robert chose to handle all of it. The lies, the avoiding. It was all so unnecessary.  Simon moved closer and put his arm around Robert’s waist and squeezed. It was so gentle, so warm and Robert practically melted into his side. He felt Simon's mouth close to his ear seconds later, tickling his soft skin as he spoke.

“Can we, then?” Simon whispered. “Can we have this? Just the two of us?” Robert's mouth instantly fell open in disbelief at Simon's words, thinking he had died and gone to heaven.

The lump in Robert’s throat barely moved as he swallowed hard, his breathy answer barely audible, "Yes...” And he opened his eyes briefly, just as Simon had moved to face him. So close he could feel his warm, damp breath against his face and from out of nowhere it seemed, his lips lightly pressed against Robert’s, holding him for a moment in an unexpected, soft kiss.

Robert reluctantly pulled back and his dry, scratchy throat just barely managed yet another apology, “Simon... I’m sorry f-for —“ but Simon moved in once again, quickly capturing Robert’s mouth, silencing him with another kiss and Robert couldn’t help but moan out loud at the feeling of Simon yielding to Robert’s tongue.

He was so thankful that he had another chance with the man he loved and couldn’t possibly live without. So thankful that he had another chance to hold him in his arms, to kiss him, to feel him, and at last when his tongue was granted entry he wasted no time invading that sweet and perfect mouth.

Robert pulled Simon's head back by his hair sharply and he heard that familiar, muffled, little exclamation that had escaped Simon’s throat and it was music to his ears. His reaction to Robert's simple act of aggression sent a jolt straight to his cock and it was all Robert needed before he pressed his body to Simon’s, slowly overtaking him, insisting... pushing him gently down on to his back, moaning in his ear how he wanted him so, one hand already creeping up under his shirt, already losing control...

 

** _**THE END**_ **


End file.
